


Chipped Tea Sets

by FairyChess, SoDoRoses (FairyChess)



Series: Pieces Verse - Soulmate AU [4]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gray-Aromantic Dark Creativity | Remus Sanders, HEY READ THESE, M/M, Misgendering, Other, Parental Abuse, Physical Abuse, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Transphobia, animal cruelty, deadnaming, i just made... a lot of them alsdkjaklsdj, i will be adding shorts characters as i go, like making jerky in a low oven for hours and hours slowburn, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:00:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 45,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27618037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyChess/pseuds/FairyChess, https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyChess/pseuds/SoDoRoses
Summary: Remus meets his soulmate in the worstpossibleway.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Creativity | Roman & Dark Creativity | Remus & Logic | Logan, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders
Series: Pieces Verse - Soulmate AU [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1745191
Comments: 250
Kudos: 467





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> gonna be a Long Boy
> 
> Note: Seriously Read The Warnings Yall
> 
> thank you to @trivia-goddess for beta-reading and joining me in Remus Needs A Hug club (i say like im not consistently the reason he needs a hug)

Remus turned around a corner and just barely managed to keep from making a frustrated noise as he immediately turned on his heel and headed back the way he came.

Fuck. Maid in one hall, footman following him - they were like Lyme-riddled _ticks_ every one of them, and Remus was already pretty deranged, he didn’t need to be driven any _more_ insane.

He ducked into a side room, one he knew had two doors. If he could just make it out the _door_ he knew he could get past the guards at the gate – the further down the ladder the servant’s got, the easier they were to bribe, unlike all the upstairs servants, who were much more firmly under Mother’s thumb.

But to do that he had to make it to the _door_ , past all the maids and the footmen, and he had to make it past the actual _house_ guards who did not respond well at all to wads of cash. Oh they’d _take_ them, but they were just as likely to snitch as soon as Remus was out of sight. Traitorous bastards.

Remus poked his head over the railing, furtively glancing around the grand staircase and the front hall. It was empty, but he couldn’t see through either of the doors on either side. He strained his ears, listening for any sound of footsteps, but he heard only silence.

Pumping his fist silently, he rushed down the stairs, treading as lightly as possible. He made it to the front window and surreptitiously looked through the window, seeing no guards out front – he had only a minute at most before they finished the circuit and made it back around.

He pushed open the front door and bolted.

“Hello, Remus,” came a bored drawl from one side of the front steps.

“Oh, come _on!_ ” screeched Remus.

Anton, the head of security, came into view, stepping out from where he’d been hidden on the other side of the bushes flanking the front stairs. He had his arms crossed and an unimpressed look on his face.

“Where are you going?” he said flatly.

“A walk around the grounds,” said Remus, blatantly lying.

“Oh, good,” said Anton, smiling nastily, “I’ll come with you.”

Remus’s own smile felt more like a snarl.

“No, it’s fine,” he ground out, “I can manage on my own, you know.”

Anton sighed, bored.

“I can’t let you leave,” he said, “You know that,”

“But they’re only going to get you in trouble if you _tell_ them!” said Remus, “Just- for the love of fuck can you _really_ not just pretend you didn’t see me?”

“I really can’t,” said Anton.

“Oh, you ass-kissing little-”

Anton rolled his eyes, gesturing toward the lawn and cutting Remus off.

“Did you want to go for the walk, or not?”

“Fuck off,” said Remus bitterly, turning his back on Anton and practically stomping back into the house.

It was lunchtime – he’d known his parents wouldn’t be looking for him, they never ate lunch all together unless they were at some kind of _event_. Remus made his way to the smaller dining room, throwing open the door with a groan and immediately laying on the floor in a fit of dramatics.

“Afternoon, Remus,” said Logan lightly.

“Foiled again?” said Roman, frowning sympathetically.

“Fucking Anton,” groaned Remus, “He’s the bane of my existence.”

“He’s only doing his job,” said Logan quietly.

“And his _job_ ,” said Remus, throwing his arms in the air, “Is currently holding me _hostage_ , if you _haven’t_ _fucking_ _noticed_.”

Patton was looking at him with open, blatant pity, and Virgil had his usual expression on, which is to say he looked like he was one stray pointed comment away from picking a fistfight with Remus’s parents.

“I’ll give them this,” said Remus, knocking his head back onto the wooden floor, “It’s _working._ There is _no_ way I am gonna get ahold of my soulmate like this,”

Not that Remus had ever been particularly invested in the idea of soulmates. But that had been when he was the third and clearly least desirable of his brothers, when it would have been perfectly acceptable for him to live out the rest of his days as a bachelor everyone conveniently forgot to invite to parties.

Now that he was the only one their parents had a hope of making a political match with, his soulmate had quickly become the first thing on Remus’s mind, constantly.

He had _one_ way to get out of this, one escape route, one alternative to a life stuck with whatever air-headed bore of a snob Mother and Father picked out for him, and he was very quickly running out of time to get it.

He couldn’t hold it against Logan or Roman, really – it wasn’t like they’d _meant_ to do it – but it was really hard not to be a little annoyed that they’d gone and gotten hitched to their soulmates and therfore convinced their parents that Remus should be basically under _house_ _arrest_ to avoid the same. Even beyond the dreaded arranged marriage, Remus was fucking _bored_ , and he was being watched so closely he could even indulge in any of his in-the-house hobbies and risk whatever servant was tailing him seeing his hiding places and having them thrown away or destroyed.

He still remembered the pet caterpillar that he hadn’t hidden well enough as a kid – a maid had found it cleaning his room, and Mother hadn’t even reacted to his begging her to please, _please,_ just let him take it back outside if he couldn’t keep it. She’d squished it right in front of him with a glass, and had him stand in silence while the maid cleaned it up.

Remus only collected things that were already dead now.

Shaking himself, he let out another groan and clamored up off the floor, finally taking one of the open seats left for him at the table.

“Might as well be beating my head against a brick wall,” he muttered, “Just, cheerfully shaking my brain like a cocktail until it turns to egg white foam like a freaking cream soda-”

“ _Dude,”_ said Virgil, giving him a deadpan look.

“We are eating, Remus,” said Logan, but Remus could tell he was trying not to smile, the traitor. “Please remember that Patton and Virgil are not yet used to your… colorful metaphors.”

Patton did look a little green, but his expression was mostly still that… pinched little sad face, like he thought Remus was a starving street urchin he should give coins and chocolate to cheer up.

Trying not to grate under the pity or look too obviously morose, Remus started picking at his plate.

If he wanted to find his soulmate, he was really gonna have to get creative.

—

Three times a week – Wednesdays, Fridays, and Sundays – under threat of absolute misery if declined, everybody ate dinner together in the front dining room.

It was, by turns, Remus’s favorite time of the week or an unrelenting nightmare.

Mother and Father spoke little, and when they did it was always biting, either disapproving or outright cruel. On the best days, they picked on Patton – or tried to – who was a master at responding in such sweetly polite ways that Mother and Father were helplessly unable to find fault with him even when he’d quite clearly insulted them. Logan always visibly restrained himself from laughing at these, and came away from the table watching Patton with an embarrassingly soppy expression.

On bad days, they insulted Virgil, who – except for the very first time – never responded except with thunderous expressions, shaking with barely-contained rage. Once, they’d all finally escaped the dining room only to learn Virgil had bitten the inside of his cheek bloody to keep from snapping back.

He _had_ snapped back the first time, but it was Roman they’d punished for the “outburst.” Remus had to give them bitter credit where credit was due – if there was a more effective way to shut Virgil up, Remus couldn’t think of one.

The Sunday meal had so far passed in silence except for one quip at the very start about the bread rolls, which Father had claimed Patton might not be used to the quality of, a clear dig at his bakery.

Patton had cheerfully replied that they were very good rolls, and that normally he’d ask for the recipe from the lady of the house, but of course, since Mother couldn’t bake, he’d have to go downstairs and ask one of the kitchen maids or the cook.

Ten minutes later, Remus was still trying not to grin about it, Patton continued to look smug, and Mother like she’d swallowed a lemon.

Mother primly wiped her mouth, setting down her silverware in exactly the right spot, and Remus resisted the urge to knock over his glass just to rile her up.

“We have an announcement,” she said simply.

Remus’s blood froze.

He exchanged what he was sure was a terrified look with Roman, who reached out to grab his hand under the table, out of sight. There were only a few kinds of things that warranted _announcements_ , and there was one in particular that Remus would just about rather gargle hot glass than hear right now.

She turned to Remus, and he felt his stomach shrivel up like a raisin.

“We have found you a wife,” she said, smiling pleasantly like her words weren’t making Remus want to flip the table.

“A proper sort of wife,” said Father, with pointed looks at Patton and Virgil. Virgil’s hand gripped his fork so hard it shook.

“The Bullards are coming over on Wednesday to introduce the two of you,” Mother continued, “It’s only a formality of course, the Bullards were eager to accept. Your father and I will both be there. You _will_ behave.”

_Oh, I most certainly will not,_ thought Remus.

“Of course,” he said, grinning sharply, “Mother dear, it’s me. When have I ever misbehaved?”

Mother wrinkled her nose in clear distaste of him before returning to her food. She clearly thought the conversation was over.

Without speaking, Remus pushed his chair back from the table and stalked from the room. He’d pay for it later, in dozens of nasty comments and stricter orders and even more tails, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Three days, apparently, before his life was fucking _over._

—

He’d tried. _Fuck_ had he tried.

But they must have _known_ he’d be trying to get out even harder now that he had an actual, real, looming deadline. Remus couldn’t so much as go to the bathroom without some servant just “happening” to cross his path, and at one point he’d gone to leave his room in the middle of the night and found Anton standing right outside the door, like a guard at a prison door.

Wednesday dawned, and the sunlight streamed through Remus’s window, and he didn’t so much as attempt to get up, just laying there and letting himself wallow in his misery. Oh, later he’d make a nuisance of himself, do everything in his power to make them regret this, but for now- for now he just wanted to sulk.

Late in the morning, there was a soft knock, and Remus put one of his pillows over his head.

The door creaked open.

“Remus?” came Logan’s hesitant voice.

“What?” snarled Remus.

“I brought you breakfast,” said Logan calmly, “Or- I suppose it is rather more like brunch.”

“I’m not fucking hungry.”

The bed sank beside him, and Remus felt the comforting squeeze of a hand on his wrist and ignored the lump in his throat.

“You should eat before,” murmured Logan, his voice sad, “You will not want to, at lunch.”

Remus’s shoulder shook, and Logan’s hand wormed under the pillow to scratch his scalp, fumbling and not nearly as nice as Patton’s but somehow better, because it was his brother.

“I’m so sorry,” whispered Logan, “It is- foolish, and pointless, to make wishes but. I do wish I could stop this for you.”

“You can’t.” croaked Remus.

“No, I can’t,” said Logan, his own voice wobbling ever so slightly, “But I can make you eat breakfast. Up, Ree. The toast will get cold.”

Remus could appreciate the breakfast, but it was hard to keep down. He managed half a piece of toast and most of a cup of lukewarm coffee. Logan helped him get dressed, in the itchy, heavy long sleeves and pants and scarf and _fucking gloves_ Remus had always hated but was especially furious about today.

Their parents had always found Logan’s mark inconsequential, and they’d always scolded Roman nastily about the indecent place of his.

But _Remus_ – oh, it didn’t compare to how much they hated Remus’s soulmark. On his _hand,_ which meant _he_ was going to do the touching. He was sure the number of times his hands had been slapped or hit with books or rulers or - on a few notable occasions - silverware, was well into the thousands.

“I don’t want to do this,” he said, miserable and petulant.

Logan hugged him.

Remus wasn’t used to them yet, but they’d stopped startling him. Roman’s were exuberant, sometimes haphazardly attempting to lift Remus into the air even though they were the same size, and it could be a little overwhelming even when they were wonderful. Patton’s were light and easily breakable, because he knew Remus was sometimes touchier about people other than his brothers in his personal space.

Logan’s were rare. But Logan’s- Logan’s made him feel small, and safe, a little kid with scraped knees coming crying to his big brother for comfort. Always Logan – if he’d ever gone to Mother or Father, he’d been too small to remember it.

He didn’t cry – but it was a close thing.

Logan walked him to the hall outside the parlor, fiddling and fretting with Remus’s waistcoat and scarf and other bits and bobs on his person. Mother and Father were already waiting, mouth pinched in distaste at the display, and then Logan did something uncharacteristically rebellious and patted Remus softly and gently on the face in comfort before nodding to the two of them and leaving them in the hall.

“You will remember what we told you,” said Father, turning away.

“You tell me to do a lot of things,” said Remus, cheerfully acidic, “You’re gonna have to be much more specific.”

“That you will _behave_ ,” Father hissed back, clearly trying not to be overheard by the Bullards waiting in the parlor. “You will be polite, and you will not cause a scene, and you will _not_ do anything indecent to jeopardize this. Do you understand?”

“Sure do, Daddy-o,”

A ripple went up Father’s spine, and Remus tensed, half-expecting a slap. It had been the most physical contact he’d had from either of his parents his whole life, though even that had been infrequent.

But Father didn’t – he turned away with a visibly disgusted expression on his face and pushed open the parlor door, holding it open for Mother to pass through.

Remus followed them in, grinning maniacally.

The Bullards were both well into middle age, their hair half gray. Lady Bullard wore a cheerful but vapid expression, and Lord Bullard looked so blank that Remus could only imagine his personality ranked somewhere around paint drying.

But it was their daughter who drew his attention, because she… did not look anything like he’d been expecting.

For one, she was wearing pants, which he knew by now was pretty normal for peasants, but he’d never seen a noble girl wear them. Second, her wavy blonde hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, but it was arranged weirdly across her face, half-covering it. She seemed sort of nauseous, and didn’t look up at the three of them as they entered the room.

Mother and Father were clearly also startled by her appearance, but they recovered and didn’t stare, whereas Remus decided “rude staring” was how he was going to start off his attempts to ruin this as quickly as possible.

Taking his seat next to his mother, he flopped into the space and lounged bonelessly, head dangling over the arm. Lady Bullard gave him an odd expression, Lord Bullard didn’t react, and Mother was wonderfully, incandescently furious next to him and desperately trying to hide it.

“So,” said Remus, clapping loudly, “What’s your names again?”

Lady Bullard gave him an incredulous look, and Mother surreptitiously shifted so her heel was over Remus’s foot, hidden from the Bullards by the coffee table, and ground it down on him.

“… Agatha Bullard,” came the reply, “And this is my husband Charles, and our daughter Theodora,”

And awkward silence stretched.

“Dora, say hello,” prompted Agatha, clearly exasperated.

“… Hello,” said Theodora, with absolutely no inflection.

Oh, _great_. She’d inherited her father’s stale white bread personality. Just fantastic.

“So, Remus,” said Agatha, “Do you help your father with the running of the estate?”

Remus reached over and grabbed one of the tea sandwiches off the table, crammed it in his mouth, and then started talking around a mouthful of food.

“Sure don’t,” said Remus, muffled, “Mostly I go into the city at night in peasant clothes trying to find my soulmate.”

Agatha choked on her tea, and Charles’s first actual expression was a slightly terrified look in Remus’s direction. When Mother spoke, it was through gritted teeth.

“Our dear Remus,” she ground out, “Thinks he is something of a comedian. Logan, our oldest, does more helping Winston than his brothers-”

“Oh, I’m totally not joking,” said Remus, moving to pull his gloves off, “See, my soulmark is on my fingers-”

“ _Remus_ ,” Father hissed.

“See look.” said Remus, wiggling his fingers and showing the black mark on the undersides, “So you know, I’ve gotta do a lot of random touching of people to try and find them-”

“Good heavens,” said Agatha, who was rapidly turning the color of skim milk.

“Yeah just like, reaching out and poking,” said Remus, demonstrating on his mother who shook him off like a fly with an enraged look.

“Obviously it’s dark most of the time so I can’t go looking for _their_ marks, I just have to guess and grab them wherever’s closest-”

The sharp _rap_ of the spoon on his knuckles startled him -he’d been looking at the Bullards and hadn’t seen it coming.

“So,” said Mother, transparently changing the subject, “I don’t have any daughters, you know, I’m not very up to date with the young ladies’ fashions – that certainly is an-”

Her mouth wrinkled.

“Interesting outfit, Miss Bullard,”

Agatha laughed, waving her hand.

“Oh, that,” she said, amused, “Yes, Dora is having a bit of a flight of fancy at the moment, so she’s pretending to be a boy. I find it’s harmless to indulge her in the game, a little cute even.”

Remus twitched slightly.

Roman- Roman had this little teenage friend, Elliott, one of a gaggle of kids that followed Virgil around like ducks. He’d snuck the three of them onto the grounds a few times. They were cute.

Roman had taken both Remus and Logan aside and explained it, that Elliott was _transgender_ , and Logan had been baffled but accommodating and Remus mostly thought it was cool.

He was still not very keen on Theodora, who was clearly boring as a block of wood, but he did feel a little bad that the guy’s parents were being such douches about his gender.

“Well that’s… quaint,” said Mother primly.

“Yes, very endearing,” said Mrs. Bullard, “I wouldn’t let her cut her lovely hair of course, but if she would like to wear men’s clothes for a little while I think it’s harmless.”

Mother hummed, obviously disagreeing, but she didn’t say anything else about it.

The next hour passed in the most excruciating kind of torture, and not at all in the fun way. Remus received quite a few more sharp raps from Mother’s silverware and bruises from her heels, as well as a memorable moment where she’d grabbed his wrist and dug her sharply manicured nails into it.

Remus, for his part, managed to shed not only his gloves but his scarf, his jacket, and about a third unbutton his shirt before Mother had been able to stop him.

The Bullards were looking at him like he was a serial killer, which meant it was going well – or at least, the Bullard parents were. Theodora continued to drink his tea in quiet, solemn silence, looking like he wouldn’t be out of place at a funeral.

Remus managed to kick the table and make it look like an accident, which made tea and coffee and fruit juice slosh out of the cups onto the table. Mother snapped over her shoulder at the maid who rushed forward to wipe it up, and Remus made a show of scrambling up off the couch like he was getting out of her way, his own water cup in his hand.

Moving to stand beside Theodora’s end of the couch, he tipped the cup into his lap.

Theodora shrieked, leaping up, his front sopping wet from his legs to his face where it had splashed up, dropping his own cup of tea.

“Aw, shit,” said Remus, “Here, let me-”

He grabbed one of the cleaner of the maids’ rags and started dramatically trying to sop up the water off Theodora’s front.

“Oh my god what are you _doing?_ ” hissed Theodora, his face contorted in a very-much-not-bland expression of horrified embarrassment.

“Helping!” said Remus cheerfully.

“This is entirely indecent!” Mrs. Bullard, her voice shrill.

“Oh, you’ve got water on your face, let me-”

Mrs. Bullard let out a scandalized screech as Remus moved Theodora’s hair out of the way and reached up with the rag in the other hand.

His hand froze, and _burned._

Remus jerked back, horrified.

With his hair pushed out of his face, it became obvious – Theodora’s soulmark was a curved, uneven crescent around his now wide, startled eyes. It must have been white, before, easy to hide on his pale skin with the hair in the way.

Now, it was a faintly green-ish gray, and when Remus looked down at his own hand the familiar shape of the black mark had now burned itself bright gold.

Theodora reached up slowly, gingerly touching his soulmark. The whole room had gone dead silent.

“… Well,” said Mrs. Bullard, sounding slightly nauseous.“I suppose- I suppose we picked well for you, didn’t we Dora?”

Theodora just kept staring at Remus.

Remus looked at his parents, both of whom had relaxed and now wore infuriatingly self-satisfied smiles.

“Isn’t it just lovely?” said Mother, reaching out to pick up her own cup of coffee once more, “Things sometimes work out so perfectly like that.”

Remus bolted.

“ _Wait!”_ shouted Theodora raggedly.

Remus didn’t even slow down, sprinting for the door and throwing it open.

Theodora followed, and he managed to grab hold of Remus’s arm just outside the door, ignoring his mother calling for him behind them.

“Janus!” he shouted.

“What!?” said Remus, shaking off the grip.

“ _Janus,_ ” he repeated, “My- my name, my name is Janus,”

“I don’t fucking care what your name is!” said Remus hysterically, wincing at the curl of guilt in his stomach when Janus flinched.

Remus ran, and this time, Janus didn’t follow.

—

“ _Fuck!”_ he shouted, throwing open Roman’s bedroom door and stalking inside.

“What the- _knock much?_ ” said Virgil, flushing, probably because he and Roman were curled up in the bay window reading together all snuggly and nauseatingly cute.

“No!” said Remus, “This is a fucking emergency, it’s too important for knocking Punk and Circumstance!”

“What happened?” said Roman, scrambling up.

“He’s my _soulmate_ is what happened!” said Remus, throwing his hands up in the air.

Roman faltered.

“He- he who?”

“The Bullards’ son!” said Remus.

“… I thought-” said Roman haltingly, “I thought the Bullards had a daughter?”

Remus waved him off, annoyed.

“No, he’s- like your little gremlin kid, Elliott, he’s transgender, you’re missing the _point_ , Roman!”

“ _I’m_ missing the point?” said Roman, strangled.

“Wait,” said Virgil, “Why are you freaking out?”

“ _Why am I freaking out?”_ said Remus, “Because I just got saddled with a husband _Mother and Father_ picked out for me and now there’s _absolutely no way I’m getting out of it!_ ”

_Because I feel like I’m having a heart attack. Because I think all my organs are vibrating like buzzing bees and I might vomit and I’m so_ scared-

Virgil crossed his arms, staring at him.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” he said brightly.

“Oh, screw you!”

“… I mean,” said Roman hesitantly.

“Roman, what the hell!”

“I just- Remus,” said Roman, “You’ve been- you’ve _been_ looking for your soulmate, haven’t you? And this- isn’t this the best possible outcome? I mean, would you rather he _not_ be your soulmate? Surely this is the better option,”

“What I _want-_ ” said Remus, voice cracking, “Is to _never_ have to do what our parents tell me to do, _ever again!_ ”

And he burst into tears.

There was a stretched, pained pause, where the only sound was Remus desperately trying to keep from blubbering and failing completely.

“… Remus,” said Roman, soft.

“It isn’t _fair_ ,” he sobbed pathetically, “They shouldn’t- they shouldn’t be _allowed_ to just- to just make every choice and every decision and- it’s _my fucking life_ , why, _why_ is it _like this-”_

Remus sank to the floor, still crying, and Roman followed him down and grabbed him by the hands.

“Hey, _hey,_ ” he said gently, squeezing, “I- _Ree_ , I’m so _sorry._ I wish it was different too,”

“Easy for _you_ to say, they didn’t pick out _your_ soulmate!” Remus snapped.

Roman visibly flinched, but he didn’t let go, squeezing Remus’s hands again.

“It’s okay to be upset,”

“I’m not upset, I’m _pissed_ ,” said Remus, tears streaming down his face.

“It’s okay to be that too,” said Roman, leaning in and bumping their temples. “I know this isn’t what you wanted. But- but maybe it won’t be awful? May this is a lucky break.”

Remus swallowed the automatic, bitter reply, knowing Roman was just trying to make him feel better even if it wasn’t working.

Because the truth – the real, whole truth, the one part Remus hadn’t told anyone, even his brothers – was that Remus didn’t want to get married at all.

And he knew Virgil and Roman were married, but they still referred to each other as boyfriends when Mother and Father weren’t around. Remus had thought, _hoped_ , desperately, that if he found his soulmate before his parents married him off, that they would understand, and they could get married on paper and it wouldn’t have to be _real,_ because surely no one would want _Remus_ as a soulmate anyway? Barring his brothers, nobody had ever wanted Remus _at all_ , and he certainly wasn’t built for anything like being a _husband._

After all, if they were his soulmate, wouldn’t they understand? Wouldn’t they _know_ that Remus just wasn’t ready, would probably never be ready, that he was just _missing_ whatever it was that made love work? Roman and Virgil snuggling in bay windows and Patton and Logan’s mushy bunny kisses in broad daylight – none of it had, for a moment, appealed to him.

But this- this was real. This was happening, and there was nothing he could do about it. He would never get away with a just-on-paper marriage with his parents breathing down his neck the whole time.

And apparently, the person the universe picked out for him was the same as the one his _parents_ picked, which meant Remus had never been going to have a choice at all, had he?

Curling up in Roman’s embrace, Remus pressed his face into his brother’s shoulder and tried not to let the dread swallow him whole.

But when he closed his eyes, all he could see was pale gray-green crescents curled around brown eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of parties that Remus would rather chew glass than attend.
> 
> Too bad he’s one of two guests of honor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to @trivia-goddess for beta-reading! 
> 
> See the end notes for more detailed warnings

Remus quickly decided that being engaged was his least favorite state of being.

Logan and Patton’s engagement had been short, only a month (half of it without Mother and Father even knowing about it) and filled with giggly clandestine meetings and embarrassingly sappy looks. Roman and Virgil’s had been so short Remus hadn’t even seen most of it – Virgil had basically heard Roman mention their parents’ attempts to stud him out like a bull one time and dragged Roman to the nearest chapel in what amounted to blind, infatuated panic.

But the main thing they had in common, other than being short, was that they were quiet – there was no way to stop the gossip, but their parents were determined that Logan and Roman’s “indiscretions” would be as unobtrusive as possible.

Remus? Remus had zero such luck.

“I’m not fucking going,”

“Language,” said Logan idly, a tic he’d picked up from Patton, “And you and I both know you hardly have a choice,”

“I’ll make a scene if they make me go,” said Remus, “I will hang from the Bullards’ fucking chandeliers and tip the buffet table and hit on everyone who _isn’t_ Janus-”

“Remus,” snapped Logan, his face twisting in a sudden flare of anger, “That’s cruel and you most certainly will _not_ ,”

Remus cowed slightly.

Pulling back, Logan closed his eyes and took a steadying breath.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he said, quieter, “I know you are very upset. But this is hardly Janus’s fault.”

Remus knew that, technically – but hell if just the idea of seeing Janus again, especially at a party where the Bullards were _announcing_ _they_ _were_ _getting_ _married_ didn’t make Remus’s stomach feel like it was being gnawed on by maggots.

“And according to your account of the meeting,” Logan continued, “His family is utterly reprehensible to him – do not make this any more stressful for him than it surely already going to be,”

Remus bristled a little – Remus didn’t even know Janus, why should he spend an entire evening uncomfortable to keep _him_ from being stressed? - and if it had been Mother or Father, he might have risked back-talking with how awful he felt.

But it wasn’t Mother or Father – it was Logan. And if there was one person on the planet who could shut Remus up, it was him.

And really – it _wasn’t_ Janus’s fault. Remus might be sort of terrified of him, but he didn’t want to torture him on _purpose._

“ _Fine_ ,” he muttered, “No hitting on anyone,”

Logan immediately picked up on Remus’s very deliberate omission of any of the _other_ scenes he’d said he was going to make, but before Logan could say anything about it the door opened and he jerked back from where he’d been adjusting Remus’s collar like he’d been burned.

“Good Morning, Remus dear,” said Mother, smiling at Remus in that way she had been in the past weeks that made Remus’s _skin_ _crawl_ , before casting Logan a much less pleased look.

“Logan,”

“Hello, Mother,” said Logan pleasantly in spite of the clear snub.

“It’s time to go, Remus,” she said lightly, “We have a coach waiting,”

“Can’t go,” said Remus, gagging theatrically, “Stomach flu, very contagious, and I might throw up all over you in the coach,”

“Don’t be silly, Remus,” she said, rolling her eyes, “This is important, and you look fine. Don’t you want to see Theodora?”

“No, I don’t particularly want to see Janus at all, actually,” deadpanned Remus, managing to keep the shake out of his voice.

Mother rolled her eyes again, even more exhausted. Remus got the feeling Mother was not going to be any better about Janus’s name and pronouns than Janus’s own parents, and no matter how much Remus didn’t want _any_ _of_ _this_ to be happening it still made his stomach twist a little on Janus’s behalf.

Remus kept trying to get out of it, but arguing with Mother was like trying to fight an entire army of tiny, angry needles – each jab was easy to shrug off on its own, but they were relentless and inexhaustible.

Remus didn’t speak on the long carriage ride to the Bullards’ estate. It was early morning when they left, and they weren’t going to get there until almost two in the afternoon – they’d had to go quite a ways to find a family willing to even entertain the thought of marrying their kid off to Remus – which was an excruciatingly long amount of time for Remus to be quiet, but you could do just about anything when you were fueled by spite.

Remus didn’t wait for the footman to open the door when the coach stopped, just shoving his way out of the cushy, claustrophobic space overfilled with his parents’ presence and stalking his way up their entryway.

“He must be excited,” he heard Mother say, and Remus resisted the urge to go back and slap the horses to stampede in favor of snarling at the doorman.

It was an afternoon party, so everyone was dressed to show off but not make it _look_ like they were showing off, all of them tittering in little circles with each other and acting like they were having a grand time in spite of the fact that Remus knew every single one of them was just as itchy and sweaty and overheated as he was.

Patton had made it his mission to fill all their wardrobes with “clothes that won’t make you faint” and Remus had quickly come to prefer them over _this_ monkey suit by far. The gloves alone had always been a nightmare, pinching the webbing between his fingers and limiting his movement, and now that Remus knew there were places he didn’t _have_ to wear them it made places like _this_ seem even more unbearable than they’d always been.

He’d brute-forced his way past the entry hall without giving anyone a chance to announce him, so he wasn’t getting swarmed like he was sure he would be if all the stooges around knew he was the “guest of honor” - Remus made his way over to the food and resolved to get as much jam on his face as possible. Logan couldn’t disapprove _that_ much if it was jam.

“Oh, hello,”

Remus quickly shoved a thumbprint cookie in his mouth before he turned to give a toothy, pastry-filled smile to the man who’d greeted him.

Said man recoiled with a brief nose wrinkle of disgust before putting on a simpering expression. Remus chewed as noisily as possible, smacking his lips.

“…Right,” said the man, “Hello, I am Lord Ashburn. How do you know the Bullards?”

“I don’t – I’m gatecrashing,” Remus lied through a mouthful of cookies and jam.

Ashburn looked scandalized, and Remus grinned at him.

“Remus, there you are,”

Flinching, Remus turned and gave his father an identical smile.

He sighed, exasperate, gesturing for Remus to follow him.

“I know you must be excited to see Theodora, but really, there was no need to run off. She’s this way, my boy.”

“Oh,” said Ashburn “You are the – ahem – lucky groom to be, then?”

“‘Lucky’ is not the word I would use,” Remus muttered through gritted teeth.

“Remus, come _here_ ,” snapped Father, “You are making a scene and you haven’t even greeted Theodora or the Bullards,”

“Oh, damn, I wonder why,” Remus muttered, following his father with a deliberately slouched posture as he led Remus through the Bullards’ front parlor.

“Agatha,” said Father, giving her a perfectly executed half-bow, “I have found the wayward groom – he got lost looking for Theodora,”

“Actually I was raiding your buffet table. Do you have any meat or is it all fru-fru pastries?”

Janus, who was standing on the opposite side of his mother, visibly bit the inside of his cheek, some kind of light in his eyes.

“… There will be salmon toast brought out for lunch,” said Agatha looking at Remus with clear, unabashed suspicion.

“Great, can I get barbecue sauce on mine?”

“…Excuse me?” said Agatha.

“Barbecue. Sauce,” repeated Remus, “My brother-in-law brings it home from this one food cart sometimes.”

“A _food_ _cart?_ ” said Agatha shrilly.

“Remus has always been something of a comedian,” said Father, smiling pleasantly.

Remus had long, _long_ ago stopped seeking his parents’ approval, and now that he had it, all he could was the suffocating, oppressive weight of it. Remus had never, not once, been enough for them - and now he had to watch them snub his brothers over and over for something neither of them could help, and act like Remus had done something wonderful even though he didn’t even want it? His parents had never described him as anything more polite than an “incorrigible nuisance” and now he was a _comedian?_

It wasn’t fair, and it was utterly _infuriating_.

“Well,” said Agatha, “No, we do not have any… _barbecue_ sauce, unfortunately. My apologies,”

She looked like she’d just about rather yank her own teeth than apologize to Remus, which was a little gratifying.

“Welp,” he said, “Great chat, bye.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Father, cutting off Remus’s attempted escape, “We are _here_ to introduce you to the extended family of the Bullards, and you haven’t even greeted Theodora yet, let alone anyone else,”

Remus winced a little, another burst of that unwilling sympathy.

“Hey, Janus,” he said pointedly.

The corner of Janus’s mouth twitched.

“Hello, Remus,” he replied, “Are you enjoying the party?”

“No,” said Remus flatly.

“Me neither,” deadpanned Janus without missing a beat.

“ _Dora,_ ” said Agatha, swatting him with her fan and making the wry smile on Janus’s face immediately slip back into that placid blankness.

“Apologies, Mother,” he said softly.

“Really Dora, you could try to be less sullen,” Agatha continued.

“Of course, Mother,”

“Come this way,” said Charles, gesturing for Remus and Father to follow him, “My parents are very excited to meet you,”

Remus was dragged unwillingly through almost an hour of introductions to various extended Bullard family members that he didn’t bother to be polite about and certainly didn’t attempt to remember. Father didn’t seem the least bit concerned with Remus’s taciturn, sullen behavior.

_Why would he?_ Thought Remus, _He’s already won, hasn’t he?_

When he finally managed to escape it was because of the tumult of moving from the parlor to the dining room, and he slipped into the crowd and immediately put as much space between him and the Bullards as possible.

Or at least – the Bullard parents.

He hadn’t _meant_ to come out of the crowd basically on top of Janus, and he managed to duck behind a potted plant before Janus or the gaggle of girls around him saw him.

“It’s just so funny,” said one of them, her voice nasty, “Have you _seen_ him all afternoon? He’s an obnoxious, sullen brute,”

Janus hummed noncommittally.

“I feel like we shouldn’t be surprised,” said another, “After all, _someone’s_ going to have to properly smack you back into lady’s clothes, dear cousin – no wonder your soulmate is such a barbarian,”

Remus had been _trying_ to get everyone here to hate him, so he couldn’t exactly be surprised – but somehow, the assumption that Remus was going to smack Janus in _any_ way made cold dread pool in Remus’s stomach.

Swallowing a groan of frustration that the universe seemed determined to keep putting him in positions to _talk to Janus_ when Remus would really rather keep hiding behind the potted plant forever, Remus came out from behind the flower pot.

“Janus?” he said, making his voice as pleasant as he could manage when he was resisting the urge to bolt like a spurred horse.

Janus jumped, and so did the knot of girls, who all moved back from him like they thought Remus would lunge.

“… Yes?” said Janus.

“… Would you like to sit with me?” Remus asked, the shake in his voice almost unnoticeable.

Janus smiled softly.

“Yes, that would be nice,”

Janus left the group and came to stand by Remus at exactly a respectable distance. Remus led them toward the dining room.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Remus spoke.

“I’m not going to hurt you,”

“Oh, you heard that?” said Janus immediately, his voice light.

“I’m an asshole, not a fucking monster,”

“I didn’t say you were,” Janus replied easily, “And I didn’t think you were going to hurt me. My cousin was being cruel on purpose – as you may not have noticed, my entire family is wildly transphobic in various increasingly unpleasant ways,”

Janus spoke like he was discussing the weather, which was sort of unnerving and Remus could begrudgingly admit to being impressed.

Throughout the meal Janus would occasionally open his mouth like he was going to say something, think better of it, and go back to eating. Remus didn’t make any attempts at conversation, and as soon as he could manage it he practically fled the table.

He successfully avoided the Bullards, Janus, and miraculously, even his parents for the rest of the afternoon – by the time Mother found him, it was time to leave.

“So,” she said, smiling placidly across the coach at him, “Did you enjoy yourself after you snuck off with Theodora?”

“I didn’t _sneak off_ with Janus.”

Mother actually _laughed,_ a sound that Remus could count hearing on one hand.

“Well,” she said, “As long as you didn’t do anything too indecent in public I suppose I shall let it pass. It isn’t as if the Bullards can call off the engagement if you behave indiscreetly.”

“Bet,” muttered Remus.

Neither of his parents bothered responding, and Remus passed the rest of the coach ride in bitter, miserable silence.

—

The next time Remus saw Janus was even worse.

If a lunch party was uncomfortable, evening parties were a whole different level of nightmare. If there was anything in the world worse than the rigid, uninspired dancing that made up the bulk of these kinds of events, Remus had yet to discover it.

Why would anybody want to walk backward and forward and bow at preset intervals for an entire song and then an entire _set_ of songs? How was that fun for anyone? Remus might genuinely rather die, lay down in the middle of the street and wait to be run over and made into overdressed roadkill. He thought he’d make wonderful worm food.

Remus had _hoped_ it would actually be an improvement, because this time it was the _Fitzroys_ who were hosting the party – Remus already knew the best hiding places and shortcuts in the house, and he’d have his brothers there for back-up.

He wasn’t counting on his brothers being part of the problem.

Remus was hovering near Roman and Virgil when Patton cut in, laying a hand gently on Remus’s arm.

“Janus is here,” he said quietly, “Come on,”

“Why do I have to meet him at the door?” Remus whined.

“Remus, please,” said Patton solemnly, “It’s- it’s gonna be a hard night, okay? Just try,”

Remus exchanged a baffled look with Roman, who followed with Virgil when Patton gingerly took Remus by the wrist and led him to the front door.

It didn’t even take a fraction of a second for Remus to figure out why Patton was so upset.

Mother was chatting happily with Agatha in the entry hall, and there was Janus at Agatha’s side, wearing a pale blue, floor-length dress.

It might have looked nice, if Janus’s face wasn’t the green-ish white of off milk and absolutely murderous looking. Remus wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen someone look so equally miserable and pissed off.

Remus heard Roman make a strange, choked noise behind him, and Virgil spit a curse under his breath.

Patton left the three of them gaping in the doorway. He drew several stunned looks and a smattering of whispers as he made his way through the crowd, in his ruffled, short-sleeved shirt and lack of gloves. Roman followed, dragging Remus by the hand.

“Hello,” said Patton sweetly, addressing Janus first, which was incredibly rude and therefore Remus couldn’t complain, “You must be Janus,”

Taking Janus’s hand, he gave it a shake. Janus looked downright alarmed, but he’d relaxed a little at his name. He awkwardly shook Patton’s hand back, ignoring the scandalized noise from his mother.

“I am,” said Janus.

“I’m Patton, Logan’s husband,” Patton continued, “It’s so nice to meet you, Janus!”

Janus smiled a little.

“Oh, I _have_ heard of you,” he said a little dryly.

Patton grinned.

“I’m just sure you have,”

“Remus,” said Mother, her mouth twisted in her usual blatant distaste of Patton, “Why don’t you show Theodora and her parents around the manor? She ought to know the layout a bit before she moves in, and maybe you can pick out your new quarters during the tour.”

“I’ll help!” blurted Roman for some reason, and Remus gave him an odd look. But hey – Roman had always been the better at socializing of the two of them. If Roman was coming, the less Remus would have to talk.

“Come this way,” said Roman, looking a little manic.

“Roman,” said Virgil, something weirdly anxious in his expression.

“I’ll be fine,” said Roman, which was an odd thing to say. Roman hesitated before quickly pecking Virgil on the cheek and then bolting over to Remus and the Bullards.

“We can start with the east wing!” said Roman, clearly ignoring Mother’s glare and the Bullards astonished expressions for the affectionate display, “That’s where most of the public areas are, but we’ll leave the ballroom for the very last. Come, this way please-”

Agatha seemed a little mollified by Roman’s behavior post-smooch, following him without complaint. Janus glanced back at Remus and made an aborted movement toward him before turning away with a strange look on his face. He took up the spot between his parents, and Remus begrudgingly brought up the rear.

“Oh, Josephine has such an eye for decor,” said Agatha as they made their way through the front parlor and then the public dining room, set for dinner after the dancing but empty for now, “Very elegant, I will have to ask her about her stylist,”

Janus kept glancing furtively back at Remus, which made something uncomfortable twist in Remus’s stomach. What was he looking at? Did he expect Remus to _chat?_ What was he supposed to say? He certainly couldn’t _compliment_ him – the very idea made him want to bury himself alive in an early grave, and Janus probably wouldn’t appreciate it anyway dressed like this. And Remus didn’t _do_ small talk – his interests were pretty much limited to insects and things that were decomposing, which Janus _definitely_ wouldn’t appreciate.

“She really is such a pleasant woman,” said Agatha.

Remus audibly snorted, which turned the next look his way from Janus into a slightly amused smile. Agatha glared at Remus.

“Mother does have very good taste in fashion, in furniture and clothes,” said Roman, smiling even though Remus could see the way it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Too right you are,” said Agatha, obviously taken with him, “Really, I can’t blame her for asking me to make sure Dora wore a dress – she would have looked dreadfully out of place here in her dress-up clothes.”

For a single moment, Roman’s expression was absolutely agonized, but it smoothed out so quickly Remus almost wasn’t sure he’d seen it.

But Remus was distracted by the miserable squirming in his own stomach.

_Mother_ was the reason Janus was dressed like this, the reason he looked so horribly uncomfortable, his mouth pinched in quiet, restrained fury. And Janus was going to _live_ here – Remus knew there wasn’t going to be any of Agatha Bullard’s air-headed, condescending indulgence from _his_ parents.

“Roman,” he blurted.

All four of them turned to Remus.

“… I have to go,” he said.

Roman gave him a frustrated look, and Remus did his best to convey that this was _important_ with his eyes.

“I’ll be back,” he said, “I have to do something real quick,”

Roman hesitated.

“… Okay,” he said cautiously, “Would you like to meet in the west wing, when you’re done?”

“That’s perfect,” said Remus, relaxing.

Janus was giving him a look that was - not quite sad. Maybe slightly disappointed, but Remus didn’t dwell on it, turning on his heel and speed walking back the way they’d come.

Remus didn’t want to marry Janus. He was terrified of the very prospect, and he wasn’t any more excited about the cold, ingenuine approval of his parents that the appearance of Remus’s “respectable” soulmate had granted him.

But.

But… Remus had meant what he said to Janus, in the Bullards’ house. He wasn’t a monster.

“Hello, Mother,” he said, inclining his head at the perfect angle, his voice pleasantly idle, ignoring the way all of it made his skin crawl with a thousand tiny ants burrowed under the skin.

Mother turned, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Have you abandoned Theodora?” she said uncaringly.

Remus contained the wince, and focused all his attention on not throwing up in his mouth.

“A little,” he said, laughing bitingly, “She’s incredibly boring,”

_Fuck_ , did Remus really hate his mother.

“Oh?” she said, “How so?”

“She’s sulking about wearing lady’s clothes,” said Remus, rolling his eyes, “She was much more pleasant to be around dressed like a man. If she wears a dress every day I think I won’t be able to stand her company at all,”

Mother swirled her glass, watching him intently.

He shrugged, leaning against the table.

“What?” he laughed, “In the house at the very least – what do I care how she’s dressed, if it makes her stop whining?”

Remus was torn between hoping Janus never found out about this conversation and apologizing for it the moment he saw him again.

Mother hummed, looking into her swirling glass.

“You make a fair point,” she said, “I would hate for you to be burdened by her, when you’ve made us so proud.”

Remus bit his tongue so hard there was half-second he thought he might clip it clean off.

Mother sighed, waving her hand begrudgingly.

“Very well,” she said, “I’ll let the silly girl wear her dress-up in the house,”

“Oh, thank goodness,” said Remus, slumping in half-feigned relief, “Thank you, Mother, she really is unbearable like this.”

Mother smiled at him, actually reaching out and patting him once on his clothed forearm.

“Of course, dear,” she said, poisonously sweet.

Remus’s own mouth tasted like nothing so much as bile.

_Definitely_ never telling Janus about this conversation.

—

Remus was a little torn, but mostly he was just miserable.

He’d seen Janus four times in the past three months. Their meeting, the Bullards’ announcement party, the engagement party, and one last time just a few hours ago – from a window as Janus climbed out of a carriage with his parents. Part of him was grateful, because Remus didn’t think of himself as a coward, but hell if he wasn’t terrified of Janus.

Part of him was angry, because if their parents were _really_ going to make them do this, he thought he deserved a little more than three meetings and a collective twelve hours maximum, none of which were alone.

What was Janus’s favorite color? What foods did he hate? What did he do when he was bored?

More importantly, did Remus even really _want_ to know?

Glancing up at the clock, he squinted in the dimness. Just after midnight.

He was getting married in less than ten hours to what amounted to a total stranger, and he felt like he was _drowning._

With a tentative creak, Remus’s door opened, spilling dim light from the hall lamps across Remus’s floor and up onto the bed.

“Are you here to kill me?” he groused.

“No,” said Roman. He and Logan entered the room, closing the door behind them and carefully making their way across the room to climb into the bed on either side of him.

They waited a moment, and Remus hesitantly reached out and grabbed Roman’s shirt, tugging a little. They scooted in to squeeze him between them at the motion, and Remus relaxed slightly.

Unfortunately, relaxing meant the lump in his throat became even harder to ignore.

“Remus?” said Roman.

Remus could only manage a strangled hum.

Squeezing his hand, Roman sighed.

“I know this… isn’t how you wanted this to happen,” said Roman, “But- is there something… else? Something you aren’t saying?”

Remus didn’t answer.

“You seem disproportionately upset,” said Logan quietly, “The revelation that Janus is your soulmate seems to have made your anxiety _worse_ rather than better, and we are… confused,”

“Been talking about me behind my back, assholes?” said Remus wetly.

“Oh for sure,” laughed Roman, “Once a week we all get together and have a ‘talk shit about Ree’ session-”

“You two are impossible,” said Logan, exasperated, “We are _attempting_ to have a serious emotional conversation-”

“Oh don’t act like you wouldn’t rather pull all your _teeth_ and then eat them than talk about your emotions,” said Remus.

“We’re not talking about mine, we’re talking about yours,” said Logan immediately.

“What if I don’t _want_ to have a mushy-gushy brother heart-to-heart, huh?” said Remus, “What if I just wanna get this nightmare over with?”

Roman winced, and Logan went very still.

“Remus,” said Logan, “We are only worried. Well – and confused, I suppose.”

Remus bit the inside of his cheek and turned onto his back.

“I don’t want to get married,” he said.

“… We know,” said Logan, “We simply don’t understand why.”

“I mean I don’t – I don’t want to _be_ married.” said Remus, “I don’t want to- to go on romantic walks or cuddle or share a _bed_ , fuck, I don’t- I don’t want any of that. It- that’s not _me,_ ”

Roman and Logan exchanged looks.

“You don’t have to do those things,” said Roman, “There’s no- there’s not a checklist. Virgil tells me all the time we don’t _have_ to do anything we don’t both want to,”

“And Janus is your soulmate,” said Logan, “Since you are matched, then presumably he also finds those things distasteful.”

“But what if he _doesn’t?_ ”

Logan frowned.

“… I don’t know, I suppose,” said Logan quietly, “You will have to set some kind of boundary.”

Have to, _have to_ , you have to have a soulmate, you have to get married, you have to figure out how to deal with a relationship you don’t want – why did it seem like Remus was the only person who didn’t get any say in this whole shitshow?

“And he _is_ your soulmate.” said Roman, “It’ll work out, it always does. Trust me. Virgil and I didn’t get along at all, at first.”

_Which you got over in about six hours, apparently,_ thought Remus, remembering the way the two of them had arrived at the manor that morning months ago practically in each other’s pockets.

Mouth wrinkling in distast, Remus felt so close to stomping his feet and throwing a hissy fit it would be funny if it was anyone other than himself.

“Okay,” he said bitterly, not meaning it at all but knowing Roman couldn’t help it when he was just too in love with Virgil to understand that Remus couldn’t even _imagine_ himself in love with Janus, let alone hope for it.

“I’m tired,” he lied, “Let’s just sleep,”

Clearly not buying it, Logan narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Remus shrugged, rolling over to face away from him.

“… Do you want us to leave?” Logan said eventually.

Remus snorted.

“Watch it, Nerdy-Gurdy. I’ll tell Patton you tried to get out of brother cuddles.”

Logan flicked him on the arm, but settled down and pulled one of the blankets at the foot of the bed over himself while Roman did the same on Remus’s other side. Roman also squirmed right into Remus’s personal space and wrapped both arms around him, petting Remus’s hair.

“Trust me,” said Roman, “Everything’s gonna be fine, Ree.”

Somehow, Remus very much doubted it.

—

Remus could at least be comforted knowing that the very first thing he’d done on his wedding day was give the maid a heart attack when he’d opened the door with Logan and Roman already in the room.

“Calm down, Gemma,” said Remus, who had immediately picked up Virgil’s tendency to call the help by their first names, mostly because it made his parents turn puce.

Gemma pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Your father will be here any moment, sir,” she said, _just_ short of impolitely impatient.

“Haven’t you heard?” said Remus bitterly, “I’m the golden child now. Can’t properly get in trouble, and trust me, _I’ve been trying._ ”

“Yes, sir, all the staff is aware,”

Remus laughed, and Gemma looked a little startled at her own audacity.

Logan and Roman did manage to get out of the room before Father showed up and reprimanded them for being “indecent” – Remus could just imagine Patton’s simmering rage at Father chastising any one of them for cuddling with their brothers like it was something shameful. Father directed Remus through dressing properly and then left the room without any words of wisdom or otherwise fatherly advice Remus might have half-expected on his wedding day. He wasn’t really surprised.

The garden wasn’t packed, but there were certainly more people than Remus had ever seen in it at once, or possibly at all – nobody really went into the gardens except for Remus looking for animal parts for his collection, and even then he preferred the woods at the back of the grounds. Getting unceremoniously hidden behind a very tall shrub, Father turned to give Remus a smile.

“You remember your cue?”

“Yes,” said Remus through gritted teeth, seeing as Mother had dragged him through his paces for this _damned_ wedding at least fifty times in the past month.

“Very good,” said Father, “I suppose I shall see you on the other side, my boy.”

Remus swallowed a bitter retort, and then he was alone.

There was music playing faintly, and the distant chattering of the guests. Remus bit down on the rising panic and clenched his teeth so hard his jaw clicked.

The music changed, and Remus started moving on autopilot. Maybe he ought to be resentfully grateful to Mother for how many times she’d made him do this. He hardly had to think about it at all.

The only difference was that it was Janus on the other side and not Mother standing in for him. They met at one end, and Remus could tell Janus was trying to catch his eye but he didn’t look back. As they turned in step and made their way toward the priest at the front, Remus tried not to feel bad about it.

The music swelled and then cut off. Remus’s heartbeat was panicked and tripping over itself, but at least this part he hadn’t had to memorize – all he had to do was repeat after the priest, and then this would be over.

Well, first he had to sit through a droning speech about responsibility and sacredness and blah blah blah. Remus crossed his eyes a few times to entertain himself, which clued him into the fact that Janus was looking at him because it made his shoulders shake with restrained laughter at Remus’s side.

The priest – the fuck was this guy’s name? - turned to Remus.

“Please repeat after me,” he said, his voice so dull this could be a funeral rather than a wedding, “I, Remus Dexter Fitzroy,”

Remus’s mouth wrinkled a little, but he just barely managed not to speak through gritted teeth.

“I, Remus Dexter Fitzroy,”

“In the presence of these our associates,”

Remus couldn’t help the obvious eye roll.

“In the presence of these our associates,”

“Take Theodora Adeline Bullard to be my wife,”

Well.

Shit.

Remus cast a furtive, panicked look at Janus beside him. It was one thing to force himself through being an asshole when he was just in front of Mother who Remus wasn’t entirely sure had a soul and certainly didn’t have any compassion – it was entirely another to call a guy by the wrong name right in front of him.

“Ahem,” prompted the priest.

“Oh, come on,” hissed Remus.

“It’s fine,”

Remus gave Janus a frustrated look.

“It’s really fine,” Janus whispered again, grimacing, “Just get it over with,”

“… Take Theodora Adeline Bullard to be my spouse,”

The priest looked pissed, but it went a little way in taking that pained look off of Janus’s face.

“I promise to be a faithful husband,” the priest continued, clearly annoyed.

“I promise to be a faithful husband,”

“So long as we both shall live.”

Remus finished and couldn’t help but visibly slump in relief that _that_ mess was over. Janus repeated the same set of words, flinching so barely at the wrong name that Remus was pretty sure nobody noticed but him and the priest, standing as close as they were.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,”

Somehow, Remus kind of expected something to happen. Something explosively awful, like maybe that he’d start screaming or spontaneously combust into a shower of miserable gore. But it didn’t really make him feel any worse – it still didn’t feel _real_. There was only the hollow, empty dread there’d been for weeks.

Through scattered half-hearted applause – except for Patton, who was clearly only just barely not cheering out loud – Remus and Janus led the way back into the house.

Remus had always assumed the seclusion right after a wedding ceremony was for, well, the obvious thing – you get married, they leave you alone in a room for ten minutes to have a quickie, and then they get on with the reception.

Now, _experiencing_ it, Remus was sure there was no way in _hell_ he was fucking Janus in the back parlor when they hadn’t even had a _conversation_ yet.

Speaking of conversation, Remus should probably start one – they’d been herded into the parlor right inside the door to the garden, the door shut behind them, and now it was just Remus and Janus, staring awkwardly across the six-foot space between them.

_Oh, what an excellent time for you to learn how to shut up,_ said a nasty voice in the back of his head.

Several painful moments passed in silence, Janus looking out the windows with a flat expression and Remus, for once, scrambling for something appropriate to say.

He’d just about settled on an apology for the name thing, opening his mouth to speak, and Janus cut him off.

“You don’t like me, do you?”

Remus could just picture Roman asking the same question with an anxious tilt to his mouth, but Janus just seemed resigned.

Remus could lie. He probably _should_ lie.

“… I. No,” he admitted, “Not- not really.”

Janus smiled wryly, still not looking at him.

“Okay.”

“… _Okay?_ ” said Remus.

Janus shrugged, finally turning to face him.

“You call me Janus. You use the right pronouns. You clearly have no intention of being cruel to me. You are in all ways an improvement over every nightmare I have dreamed up as a potential husband. What do I care if you don’t _like_ me?”

Janus’s smile didn’t reach his eyes, and a cold, nauseous pit formed in the bottom of Remus’s stomach.

“Low bar,” said Remus, the joke falling flat.

“Perhaps,” said Janus dryly, “But you _have_ cleared it. Thank you.”

“Oh my- don’t. _Don’t_ thank me for that,” said Remus, strangled.

Janus rolled his eyes slightly.

“Very well,” he deadpanned, “I rescind my gratitude. Consider me totally ungrateful,”

Remus laughed, because it was funny, but the nerves made it sound insincere, and he saw Janus wilt, just barely.

_What do I care if you don’t like me?_

More than he wanted Remus to know, apparently.

“I think we’ve been in here long enough,” said Janus, gesturing to the door, “And at least we get good food out of it. It would be a shame if the morning were a total waste,”

Not waiting for Remus to answer, Janus walked past him and turned the knob, looking over his shoulder and waiting for Remus to follow.

Remus hesitated.

“… Was there anything else you wanted to say?” said Janus pleasantly.

Remus looked from the carefully neutral expression on Janus’s face, to his hand resting on the knob.

“No,” he said. “I guess not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the transphobia the form of misgendering and deadnaming, some of which is from protags, both knowing and unknowing. Roman prefers he/they pronouns but is not out to the POV character Remus, and Janus (a trans man) is repeatedly misgendered and deadnamed)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus Dexter Fitzroy and the worst roommate situation ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to @trivia-goddess for beta-reading!
> 
> (end notes contain more detailed transphobia and aphobia tws)

Mother and Father slept in separate bedrooms. Remus didn’t know why – they were both so delightfully repressed that Remus honestly had no idea if his parents even liked each other, three kids or not – and he hadn’t particularly cared up till now.

However, the fact that _they_ did meant it was perfectly acceptable for _Remus_ to do it as well. The new quarters had two bedrooms, connected by a sitting room that led to the hall. They didn’t even have to share a bathroom. When he’d showed them to Janus, anxiously wondering if he was going to protest, Janus hadn’t even reacted except to compliment the coffee table. Mother and Father hadn’t even reacted _that_ much.

The next week passed in the most excruciating uneasiness Remus had ever experienced. In the mornings, when Remus woke up, he would stand by the door to the sitting room and listen, straining his ears for the sound of movement on the other side. When there was none, he would dart through the joint room and into the hall like he was being chased. When he _could_ hear Janus, he waited until he heard the _click_ of a shutting door that meant Janus had gone back into his own room or left, and only then would he leave.

He’d only misjudged it a few times, but Remus wasn’t really the kind of person who _experienced_ awkward silences the way other people did – he wasn’t used to it, and he’d quickly figured out that he really, _really_ didn’t like them.

The weight of Janus’s non-direct gaze on him as Remus walked passed him without speaking. The stilted, woodenly polite hellos they exchanged when Remus _did_ speak. The _silence_ – Remus _hated_ quiet, despised it, and the sheer oppressive weight of it filling the entire three-room space he slept in felt like a marble slab squishing him like a tube of paint.

They didn’t speak at dinner either, the three times a week they had to be in the same room for an extended amount of time. His parents kept up their usual pattern of barely disguised jabs at the other four, now even more barbed and occasionally interrupted by inviting Remus to come with them parties and balls as if Remus had ever once cared about any of these things.

Janus, in a move that maybe shouldn’t have surprised Remus as much as it did, had immediately, firmly planted himself on the opposite side of the dinner conflict from Remus’s parents. He’d taken to Patton’s “cleverly disguised insults” technique like a piranha to bloody water – and his carried even more weight, since Janus was _respectable_ and Patton, in the eyes of Remus’s parents, was decidedly not.

Sometimes, after his little digs, Remus thought he felt Janus look at him, just for a moment. But the few times Remus glanced his way, Janus was never watching back, and Remus couldn’t tell if he was just imagining it.

Why would he be imagining that anyway?

And then, the notes started.

The first, slipped under his door while he was asleep, was a simply folded bit of parchment. Remus considered throwing it away in a brief moment of blind panic, internally told himself he was being a grand old chickenshit, and opened it.

_I would like to redecorate the sitting room,_ the note read, _what are your preferences?_

Remus bit his lip, before moving over to the desk and snatching up a pen, scrawling his answer along the bottom of the page.

_You can do whatever you want._

Waiting until the evening, after he was sure Janus had gone to bed, Remus darted across the shared space and shoved the note under Janus’s door.

When he returned to his room the next afternoon, there was a second note pinned to the door.

_What is your favorite color?_

_I don’t have one,_ Remus scribbled, lying – because surely Janus wasn’t _actually_ going to decorate the sitting room with the kind of intense, eye-straining colors Remus preferred, and definitely not the light, acidic green that was his actual favorite anyway. Leaving early in the morning before Janus was awake, Remus slipped the note under his door just like the first time.

They kept coming, pinned to or slipped under his door or tied with an elegant yellow ribbon to the doorknob.

_What fabric do you want on the pillows?_

_Any._

_Do you want a tea set?_

_No._

_I changed the curtains, do you like them?_

_They’re fine._

_I think the pillows are overstuffed, what do you think?_

_I haven’t sat on the couch._

_Are you going to want a chair of your own? I may get a set._

_No._

The time between each note gradually increased, until the last few Remus had wondered if they were over.

A few weeks after the wedding, Remus woke up suddenly in the middle of the night. When he sat up, wondering why, he froze, hearing the sound of the floor creaking just outside his door.

It had to be Janus, leaving a note. Gemma there to clean the sitting room wouldn’t have come so close to Remus’s door when he was asleep, and she certainly wouldn’t have stood there that long.

… _Very_ long. The floor continued to creak, rhythmic but slow, like Janus was gradually swaying his weight from one foot to another. Remus held his breath, straining to listen.

The was the faintest puff of breath, so quiet Remus wasn’t sure he heard it, and then the floor creaked a final time and Remus heard the footsteps that meant Janus was leaving.

For a moment, Remus considered crossing the room and opening the door, to say anything, but then there was the sound of the other bedroom door shutting and the chance was gone anyway.

The next morning, Remus opened the bedroom door, and there was no note.

—

Remus thought he’d been avoiding Janus before, but it was nothing compared to Janus apparently now avoiding him back.

It made some uncomfortable combination of guilt and relief squirm in the bottom of Remus’s stomach. There were no more notes, no more hellos in the sitting room – Remus didn’t even _see_ Janus in the sitting room again, as if he’d stopped spending the day in there. It looked… nice, he thought, mostly creams with broad splashes of sunny yellow and accents of dark purple. It wouldn’t have been what Remus had picked, but he didn’t hate it.

And even if he did, it wasn’t like he was allowed to complain when he’d foiled every effort to include him in the process Janus had made.

Most of Janus’s shirts were yellow as well, also with splashes of purple. Was one of those his favorite color? Or maybe not – Remus only had a bare handful of bright green clothing himself, though he did have more now that Patton had gotten ahold of his wardrobe.

And the most obvious change – the first dinner with all of them after Janus’s late-night change of mind about the note, Janus entered the dining room, walked right past Remus, and politely asked if he could sit between Virgil and Patton.

_That_ got _everyone’s_ attention, even Mother and Father’s. But the two of them just looked amused for some reason Remus definitely didn’t understand – they didn’t say anything about Janus’s choice of seat, and dinner actually wound up being significantly more chatty because Patton and Janus kept up an actual conversation in between their bites of food.

They continued to look amused for the rest of the meal, and when it was over Father pulled Remus to the side in the hall by the sleeve and even that much non-direct contact made Remus want to throw him off and scream.

“Don’t worry,” said Father, lowering his voice almost _conspiratorially,_ like they were _friends_ or something, “The first lover’s spat is always the worst. She will-”

“It’s not a fucking _spat!_ ” Remus snarled before he could stop himself, the double hit of the twist in his stomach at the word “lover” and yet another slight to Janus’s pronouns making him lose his head completely.

Father’s face went from jovial to thunderous immediately, and Remus waited for the blow to fall and was genuinely stunned when nothing happened.

Father took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling again slowly.

“I am sure it will not last,” he said, still angry but calmer, “Don’t fret about it my boy,”

Remus almost laughed. God, was this what it had been like to be Logan, the golden child, before Logan had gone and met Patton and started the dominoes that ended with all of them here? Remus wished he could give it back to him – everything had been easier when Remus hadn’t even been someone worth paying attention to. This – it made him _sick._ It wasn’t real. They didn’t suddenly care about him – just the version of him they’d invented.

Patting him on the shoulder in a way he probably thought was soothing but most just came off stiff and impersonal, Father turned and left Remus standing in the hall.

But another bout of that – a rigid, uncomfortably given advice from a man whose opinion of Remus had only recently risen above “disgusted irritation” – might have almost been preferable to what happened instead.

“Remus,”

Remus froze almost mid-step, the tone of voice immediately making him feel scolded and small. Turning, he faced a solemn-looking Logan and a nervously fidgeting Roman, both of whom were looking intently at him.

“We need to talk,” said Logan flatly.

Wincing, Remus followed Logan’s gesture as he led them into his room, before turning to face Remus and Roman.

“Roman,” said Logan, “Please close the door,”

Roman did, and Remus tried not to feel trapped.

Logan turned to look at Remus, his eyes sharp and assessing.

“I know you do not share a room with Janus,” said Logan flatly.

“Yeah, so?” snapped Remus.

“ _Considering,_ ” said Logan, sharper, “That I have seen Janus out the window of my office, drawing or walking in the garden _alone,_ from morning to evening, every day for the past week, I think it is a reasonable assumption for me to make that you are not spending any time with Janus _at all.”_

“Yeah, _so?_ ” Remus repeated, snarling.

“ _Why_ are you acting like this?,” Logan snapped, “You are throwing a _tantrum_ like an insufferable toddler, when you have no valid reason to be upset-”

“ _No valid-_ FUCK you!” said Remus, shoving him.

“You have your soulmate,” said Logan, “You have your soulmate and you have paid _none_ of the prices the Roman or I had to pay for it, so yes, you have _no valid reason –_ and I _swear_ if this has _anything_ to do with Janus’s gender I will defenstrate you myself,”

“I- wait, _what?”_ exclaimed Remus, blood rapidly boiling.

“You just-” said Roman, wincing, “You were fine with the idea of a soulmate, and then you met him, and- if it because he’s trans-”

“It _isn’t_ ,” spat Remus, “It doesn’t have fucking _anything_ to do with- _fuck you_ , just- I can’t fucking believe you right now-”

“What other conclusion are we supposed to draw from your deplorable behavior?” snapped Logan.

“Uh, I don’t know, _not_ that I’m some kind of horrible bigot!?” shouted Remus, resisting the urge to shove Logan again and throwing his hands in the air, “Maybe, possibly, after more than twenty years of being my brothers for you to _not_ assume the _absolute fucking worst of me_ the fucking _second_ I do something you don’t like?”

“You are taking my words out of context. You are being _cruel_ to Janus,”

“Janus, Janus, _fucking Janus,_ this isn’t about Janus!” shrieked Remus, “This is about the universe itself _apparently_ fucking conspiring to keep me under our parents’ thumb for the rest of my life! You’re giving me shit about ‘not paying any prices’ but _me_ getting a soulmate pretty much instantly made _your_ lives even fucking worse, and you’re telling me I’m supposed to be _stoked?”_

Logan recoiled slightly, gaping.

“Oh, _do_ tell me you are not _blaming_ Janus for the state of our parents’ recent behavior,”

“I’m not- it’s not his _fault_ but if this hadn’t happened-”

“If Janus had not been your soulmate,” Logan cut him off, “Or if they had married you off to someone else who was not Janus, our parents would still currently be treating Roman and me absolutely reprehensibly, because our parents are awful fucking people,”

Roman jerked, staring at Logan with wide eyes, and Remus couldn’t help his own raised eyebrows.

Logan had never exactly sung their praises, but he’d always talked about their parents like they were something inevitable, something that just _was_ – a neutral condition of reality. Remus had never heard him say anything more negative than “having an unpleasant encounter” with one of them.

“… Uh-”

“It is the fact of the matter,” said Logan, “They are cruel and uncaring and they will likely continue to be so for the rest of our lives. We deserve better, but that is not the point. The point is Roman’s treatment and mine has nothing to do with Janus, and punishing him for it is entirely uncalled for,”

“I’m not trying to _punish-”_

“Secondly,” said Logan, speaking over him, “And what I believe may be the more accurate source of the issue, our treatment has nothing to do with _you_.”

Remus flinched.

“It’s their fault,” said Logan, and something about the words seeming strangely rehearsed, “None of us have done anything to deserve it. The blame lies solely with Mother and Father.”

He turned a sharp, narrow-eyed gaze on Remus.

“It isn’t fair,” he continued, “But it is our reality for the foreseeable future. Being obstinate about it will do nothing but continue to make you, Janus, and the rest of the household miserable.”

Logan frowned at him.

“Please,” he said, “Stop putting up such a fight about this. It will solve nothing,”

This isn’t _fair_ , Remus wanted to scream, wanted to throw something and maybe punch Logan right in his stupid know-it-all face. How could either one of them _possibly_ understand what Remus was going through, when they’d tipped off the edge of infatuated canyon as soon as they’d _met_ their soulmates?

Remus didn’t say anything, knowing anything he attempted would just come out heartbroken and cruel, the hurt curling angrily like a pit of snakes in his stomach.

Turning on his heel, he stalked from the room, and neither of his brothers followed.

—

Since that first day Remus had met Janus, when Virgil had called him an idiot, Virgil hadn’t said anything on the subject of Janus or soulmates or weddings or even really Remus, too caught in Roman’s orbit all the time to preoccupy himself with Remus’s crisis.

It took one spectacularly disastrous lunch for that to go up in smoke.

Maybe, if Remus _had_ been speaking to Janus, he might have known it was coming – but of course, he wasn’t, so when there was a tentative knock on the door to the back dining room, Remus assumed it was a maid, and when Patton called over his shoulder with a cheery “come in!” he didn’t even turn around to look.

“Hello,”

Remus froze.

Silence fell, and everyone but Remus turned to look. Remus focused his gaze firmly on his glass.

“Is there room?” Janus said pleasantly, “I have brought my own dishes from the tea room, though I don’t have a glass,”

Patton clapped brightly.

“Of course!” he exclaimed, in spite of the fact that it was really Logan who Janus ought to be asking, etiquette wise, but it wasn’t like Logan was going to disagree with Patton. “You can sit right here by me,”

“Hey,” said Virgil, playfully offended.

“Oh, have I been given a place of honor?” laughed Janus. Stomach rolling, Remus could see Janus moving toward the table in the corner of his eye.

“Most certainly,” said Logan softly, giving Patton a soppy look, and Patton leaned over to squeeze his hand with a smile. Remus chanced a glance at Janus, and found him looking at their clasped hands with an expression so pleasantly neutral it could only be fake.

Janus took his seat beside Patton, setting down his plate and fork.

“Oh no,” he deadpanned, “The table set doesn’t match. I suppose lunch is ruined,”

Virgil snorted.

“Whatever will we do?”

“Oh, we are absolutely required to cry,” said Janus loftily, “It’s the only rational reaction,”

“Hey now, no need to cry-na!” said Patton, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Oh my- as in _china?_ ” said Logan.

Patton just giggled, bopping Logan on the nose.

“That was atrocious,” said Logan, smiling softly.

“I don’t know,” said Janus, “It was amusing. Clay-musing, if you will.”

“Oh, not _you_ as well!” exclaimed Logan as Patton squealed and reached over to give Janus’s hand a friendly squeeze that clearly startled him.

“Pun buddies!” cheered Patton.

Janus laughed, just a little nervous.

“I suppose,”

“Oh now you’re really never gonna shake him,” teased Roman, “Patton loves puns almost as much as he loves Logan,”

“Hyperbole,” muttered Logan.

“Ehhhh,” said Patton, and Logan reached over to pinch him playfully on the arm.

Another laugh from Janus, brighter, his smile genuine and his eyes flitting between Logan and Patton as they bantered – and sitting there between Patton and Virgil, he fit. He looked comfortable in a way Remus had never seen him, not in the parlor the day they’d met or the announcement and engagement parties, not at their wedding and certainly not in their quarters. He looked like he belonged there.

A loud, sudden noise cracked the happy atmosphere, and it took everybody looking at him for Remus to realize it had been him, his chair scraping on the floor as he’d stood abruptly from the table.

“I- uh- I have- I have to go,”

“ _Remus_ ,” hissed Logan.

Janus’s expression shuttered, twisted and then the first real, raw emotion Remus ever saw on his face was anger.

“No, _please,_ ” he said acidly, pushing abruptly away from the table and then somehow already halfway to the door, “It was my mistake,”

“I-”

“No, _really_ ,” said Janus, poisonously cheerful, “I don’t know what I was thinking, interrupting a family occasion. Rest assured I will not impose again.”

“That’s not what I’m _saying!_ ” shouted Remus, yanking his hair in frustration.

“Good afternoon, all of you,” said Janus, ignoring him, “I hope you all have a lovely rest of your day,”

He shut the door quietly behind him, and Remus desperately wished he’d slammed it.

There was a pause so quiet and swollen it resembled nothing so much as a bloated corpse, and Remus waited for another round of chastising from Logan to start up any second now.

Which did not happen.

Virgil calmly stood from the table, crossed the room, and grabbed Remus by the back of the shirt, dragging him toward the other exit.

“Come on, rich kid,” he said, “We’re having a chat,”

“Virgil,” said Roman warily.

“Relax babe,” said Virgil, “I’m only going to metaphorically beat things into his thick skull.”

Virgil shut the door behind him after pulling Remus through, turning on Remus in the hallway with a scowl.

“ _Look_ ,” said Virgil, “I don’t know what your problem is, and I don’t particularly care. If you wanna give up your soulmate out of some weird sense of martyrdom for Roman and Logan then fine, whatever, spend the rest of your life miserable – I won’t stop you,”

He jabbed Remus firmly in the sternum.

“But you _do not_ get to make Janus feel like he can’t talk to the rest of us. You don’t get to make that call for everyone. You don’t get to abandon him _and_ isolate him from anyone else,”

“I’m _not!_ ” said Remus, bile rising in his throat, “That wasn’t- I _wasn’t!_ ”

“Then what _were_ you doing?”

_Running,_ said something small and miserable in the back of his throat, _I was terrified and I was running away._

Remus didn’t speak.

Shaking his head, Virgil gave him a disappointed look.

“Whatever,” he said, “ _Do better_ ,”

He left, and Remus stood in the hallway, with only his own misery to keep him company.

—

Weeks passed in miserable, oppressive silence.

Virgil and Roman stopped taking meals with Remus, instead eating in their own quarters with Janus, Remus very much not invited. Logan and Patton alternated, one or both of them eating with Remus some days and with the three of them on others. They never left him alone, and Remus was a little grateful for it, but mostly all he felt was guilt.

Janus continued his efforts to never come into even passing contact with Remus. Remus should, by all accounts, have been happy about this.

He was very much not happy about it.

But what was he supposed to do? Even if the next time he saw Janus he found himself suddenly, desperately in love somehow, what was he expected to do about it? He was pretty sure Janus would stab him before he accepted Remus’s company at this point – and it wasn’t like Remus didn’t know he kind of deserved it.

So Remus resigned himself to the fact that this was going to be the rest of his life, and tried to get over it with only marginal success.

But no matter how big the house was, there was no way he could avoid Janus forever.

Turning a corner on his way to leave the house and go digging through the woods for more bones, Remus came face to face with a laughing, bright-eyed Patton and a grinning Janus walking arm in arm down the hall.

The grin was startling enough, wide and easily the most genuine Remus had ever seen on Janus’s face – but what really caught his attention was Janus’s _hair._

It had been cut – now free of its typical low ponytail, the wavy blonde locks curled slightly shaggy over his ears and the back of his neck. It made his jaw look sharper, his face much more visible even with half of it still arranged mostly over his soulmark.

“You cut your hair,” Remus blurted before he thought about it.

Janus’s expression turned absolutely _glacial_ – the smile slipped away as he turned from Patton to glare at Remus.

“Yes,” he snapped, “Though I hardly see why it’s any concern of yours,”

He let go of Patton, turning to smile at him.

“Have a good day,” he said softly.

And then he turned and walked away without so much as another glance at Remus.

_This is your fault,_ something snarled in the back of Remus’s mind, _You knew you’d fuck it up, you knew you weren’t fit to have a soulmate and here you are._

As Janus turned the corner, Patton sighed and looked at Remus with a sad smile.

“Okay,” he said softly, “Time to have a talk, kiddo,”

Remus couldn’t help but wince, and Patton shook his head, coming over and patting Remus gently on the arm.

“I’m not gonna yell at you,” he murmured, “But it’s important. C’mon,”

Feeling incredibly small, Remus followed behind Patton, who led them out onto the front porch and sat on a bench, patting the spot next to him. Remus sat hesitantly.

“Alright,” said Patton, “First things first. Why are you afraid of Janus?”

Remus gave a whole-body flinch, sliding away from Patton on the bench automatically.

“I- I’m not,”

“Honey,” said Patton, “I’ve got eyes. Glasses, too,”

Remus didn’t answer, and Patton sighed.

“I know Logan yelled at you,” said Patton, “I was a little salty with him, because I thought you’d work through it on your own. Maybe not, but he still shouldn’t have gotten mad,”

Wavering, Remus dug his nails into his arms.

“I’m not ready,” he croaked, “I don’t think I ever will be. I don’t love him.”

Patton nodded.

“I know. And you’re right – I don’t think you’re going to fall in love with Janus.”

Remus’s brain scratched like a record, and he looked up at Patton in astonishment.

“I- wait, what?” said Remus, “You- you aren’t gonna tell me he’s my soulmate and that’s how it works?”

Patton frowned.

“Is that what Logan said?” he asked softly.

Remus nodded, and Patton let out another sigh.

“That’s not how it works,”

“What- that’s _exactly_ how it works!” exclaimed Remus, “I- I _watched_ it work?”

Grimacing, Patton seemed to think something over very carefully.

“Soulmates,” he said slowly, “Are like – pairs of socks. They line up at the edges, and they’re the same size and everything. They match each other.”

“I _know_ ,” said Remus.

“I’m not done,” said Patton, soothing, “But sometimes, a white sock gets washed with the colors, or a colorful sock gets bleached, and now they’re different colors, and they don’t match anymore, or maybe matches other socks better. Or it stops being a sock at all – it’s a puppet, or a doll, or one of those little hair bun makers, and it doesn’t need any other sock.”

He put his palms together just, slightly offset from each other.

“And when the socks don’t match anymore, it’s not _bad,_ but trying to _make_ them match just doesn’t work.”

“I’ve- never heard any of this,” said Remus falteringly.

Patton’s nose wrinkled in frustration.

“I know,” he said, “I keep- I keep forgetting the three of you don’t know _anything_ about soulmates, let alone the less common knowledge. I should have talked to you sooner.”

He let out a long breath.

“You and Janus were maybe supposed to fit together,” said Patton, “But, now you don’t. Maybe- maybe it was the families you were born into, or something that happened when you were kids, or maybe you were just never going to end up the matching socks, but – whatever it was, it’s no one’s fault,”

“But how do you _know_ that?” said Remus incredulously.

“I saw it happen once,” said Patton, smiling sadly, “To my Aunt Patty. She met her soulmate, and everything was great for a while. But then something happened, and she’s still not sure what, but the soulmarks started to change – and one day they stopped, and she woke up and realized she wasn’t in love with her soulmate anymore.”

“They changed?” said Remus.

Patton nodded.

“They turned gray,” he said solemnly, “Like Janus’s.”

Remus remembered the color, the almost sickly green-ish gray he’d glimpsed that first day when he’d pushed Janus’s hair out of his face. He hadn’t thought about it, but Patton was right – it was nothing like the vibrant colors of the others’ soulmarks.

Or even Remus’s own – his was still gold, glimmering. 

“So I don’t…”

Patton waited a moment.

“Don’t what, honey?” he prompted.

“… I don’t _have_ to love him?” said Remus, voice small.

“Oh, _sweetie,”_ said Patton, “Is that what this is all about? You felt like you had to?”

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Remus nodded.

“No, honey,” said Patton, “You don’t have to. You just don’t fit each other anymore, and that’s okay. It just happens.”

All at once, a wave of relief washed over him, so intense Remus swayed a little.

“ _But_ ,” said Patton, “As much as I wish you didn’t, you and Janus do have to live with each other – at least for now. Maybe someday, you’ll be able to separate, and find other people or just be happy by yourselves. I _hope_ you can. But right now, you are gonna have to figure something out. Wouldn’t you rather have a friend, at least?”

Picking idly at a thread on his leg, Remus hesitantly nodded.

A friend- a friend actually sounded _really_ good, so much less petrifying than having to figure out how to play house with someone he barely knew, but-

But.

“I can’t though,” said Remus quietly, “I already ruined everything.”

“Hey now,” said Patton, bopping him gently on the nose, “I don’t think so. I _do_ think you owe Janus an apology, and you have a whole lot of making up to do - I’m not gonna lie to you, because Janus was really, very hurt. But I don’t think you ruined anything. I think you were scared, and pretty much everyone can do some pretty unpleasant things when they’re afraid.”

Reaching up, Patton took Remus’s face in both hands and patted his cheeks lightly.

“So what do you say, kiddo?” said Patton, “You wanna try again?”

Remus let out a long shuddering breath, and pressed his face to the side, into Patton’s hand.

“Yeah,” he said thickly, “I’ll try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> amatonormativity/arophobia, internalized and otherwise (the second of which comes from protags but is based in ignorance rather than malicious), references to transphobia. Both intentional/malicious and unintentional misgendering (Roman uses he/they pronouns but is not out to Remus, the POV character, who therefore continues to use only he/him), emotional and references to physical parental abuse


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we begin picking up the pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The referenced novel is _The Woman in White_ by Wilkie Collins
> 
> The garment discussed in the final section is a sort of historically-inspired “binder” that I’ve come up with, which I imagine to be halfway between [the bandeau-style minimizing undergarments of the 1920s](https://scriptlgbt.tumblr.com/binding/bandeau) and [the short stays of the regency period.](https://wearinghistoryblog.com/2014/01/research-musings-regency-era-short-stays-vs-long-stays/) Could i have just made spandex and elastic available fabrics since i’m already gleefully mashing up time period anyway? Yes. would it have been as extra or as cool? absolutely not.
> 
> (see the end notes for more detailed cws)

It was one thing for Remus to say he was going to fix it, but it was quite another to actually do it.

Remus had left Patton and gone straight back to his and Janus’s quarters to try and figure it out – only to get halfway there and practically sprint to the opposite end of the manor to hide.

Maybe – maybe he could try the notes again. Or a letter. But Janus would probably just tear it up without reading it, wouldn’t he?

Remus managed to put it off for the rest of the afternoon, and now the evening light was turning forest fire orange in the windows as Remus made his way back to his and Janus’s quarters.

The light was on under Janus’s bedroom door, though there was no shadow telling Remus where he might be. Remus felt light-headed, which made him realize he was holding his breath, which he let out in a long, obnoxious gust and a quiet groan.

He could do it. He _would_ do it. And maybe Janus wouldn’t forgive him, but- well. Remus had done exactly what he said he wouldn’t, hadn’t he? He’d hurt Janus, even when he’d promised otherwise.

Janus deserved an apology, so that’s where Remus was going to start.

Remus crossed the sitting room to Janus’s door, hesitated for a fraction of a moment, and knocked on the door.

Only silence.

Remus knocked again, and there was a small, indecipherable sound.

“Uh. Janus?” he called, wincing at the break in his voice.

The sound of something scraping against the floor – knocked over, maybe, or kicked.

“Janus,” Remus repeated.

“ _Go AWAY!”_

The scream was abrupt and so loud that for the first few moments Remus didn’t even register the words – he threw the door open, fumbling and half-deliriously thinking someone had to be attacking Janus, and by the time his brain caught up with his ears and he knew what Janus had said he was already in the middle of the room.

Janus was sitting at his desk, a thunderously furious look on his face.

“I said go _away!”_ he snarled.

“I- wait-” said Remus.

“Get _out!”_ Janus bellowed, scrambling behind him on the desk and then producing a shiny letter opener that he then proceeded to hold, awkwardly threatening, in front of him.

Remus let out an alarmed laugh, stomach squirming in a very strange way that Remus didn’t have time to dissect.

“You gonna stab me, Jan?” he said nervously.

“Don’t you _dare!”_ said Janus, “My name isn’t _Jan,_ it’s _Janus,_ get _out_ damn you!”

“Wait-”

“For _what!?_ ” Janus demanded, throwing the knife across the room where it left a nick in the wallpaper and clattered to the floor, “For you to make it even more clear you find my company repulsive? What next? Will you fall into a fit if I touch you? Faint at the sight of my face? Act like I’m the worst thing that ever happened to you- oh _wait-”_

“ _Janus-”_ Remus tried to cut in.

“ _-You’re already doing that!”_ Janus continued, shouting right over him like Remus hadn’t even spoken. “Do forgive me if I’m not interested in hearing all the reasons I’m apparently such an unbearable burden of a husband!”

“I don’t- I don’t think that!”

“Oh?” said Janus, bitter and sarcastically cheerful, “You certainly could have fooled me!”

His hair had moved with the force of his gestures, and Janus angrily swiped his fingers through it to cover the soulmark again.

“Get out,” he repeated coldly, turning away, “And do not come back again.”

Swallowing, Remus hesitated – what a perfect out, free reign to leave and never have to speak to Janus again, never have to deal with it. Janus certainly wasn’t going to come looking for Remus again.

“I’m sorry,” said Remus, voice small.

Janus scoffed quietly and didn’t respond.

“I _am,”_ continued Remus, strangled.

“Who put you up to it?” said Janus, his voice softer but still caustic. “My guess is Patton?”

“He- it wasn’t like that-”

“So, Patton,” said Janus, scrubbing his hand across his face and biting a laugh, “Well you can tell him you did it. Absolved yourself, whatever you’re after. I don’t care.”

“Patton didn’t _make_ me apologize to you!” said Remus desperately.

“Then what do you _want?_ ” shouted Janus, voice cracking, “You want me to tell you it’s okay? Fine, it’s okay. This is just-”

He laughed, pained and strangled.

“This was always how it was going to go, wasn’t it?” he forced out, “Married to someone who couldn’t stand me, whoever my parents could _convince_ to tolerate someone like me. Why should-”

He made a fist against the desk, the scraping noise of his nails grating against Remus’s ears.

“Why should my soulmate be any different?” Janus continued, voice wobbling dangerously, “Just another cosmic _joke._ ”

“I don’t love you!” Remus blurted, which he immediately knew was the worst, dumbest thing he possibly could have said.

“Oh, you don’t say?” said Janus, laughing hysterically, and turning to face him with raised eyebrows, “You mean these past months haven’t been your desperate attempts to woo me? You fooled me entirely, in that case.”

“I mean I don’t think I _can,_ ” choked Remus.

Janus’s mouth pinched into a frown.

“… Elaborate,” he said after a long pause.

“I-”

Remus picked at the hem of his shirt.

“Okay, do- I _did_ talk to Patton,” he said, raising his hands in a surrender motion when Janus scowled, “But it was about- it was about the soulmarks and why mine’s- wrong.”

Janus glanced at Remus’s hand and Remus shook his head pointing at Janus.

“No, I mean- Mine on you,” he continued, “Why it’s- gray, like that.”

Janus’s face was smoothing a little, from open hostility to something more like pained confusion.

“He said, um- that sometimes people get like, fucked up for some reason, and they don’t match their soulmates anymore.”

“Patton didn’t say that,” said Janus, frowning.

Remus hesitated.

“I mean- he was talking about-”

Janus waved a hand like he was flicking away a fly.

“I believe you interpreted whatever it was he said that way but I highly doubt Patton called you “fucked up.” Please continue.”

“Uh-” said Remus, rubbing the back of his neck and looking to his feet, “So- there’s something like- wrong, with me, and I’m just kinda… missing the piece that makes you love other people in the like, sappy mushy-gushy way. So that’s why my soulmark on you is broken.”

His hands dropped, and he let his arms wrap around his middle and squeeze slightly to ground himself.

“And- it was definitely shitty of me, to act the way I didn’t I was just- really scared because I figured you’d notice right away that I was like- some kind of freak-”

“Please stop talking.”

Remus winced, looking up at Janus, who-

Well. He still looked pretty upset, but he didn’t look angry anymore.

“You have been- avoiding me,” said Janus, something indecipherable in his voice, “Because you believed there was something damaged about you that made you incapable of being a soulmate. Is that what you’re telling me?”

Remus bobbed his head side to side a little, considering, and then nodded.

Janus let out a long breath. Tapping his fingers on the desk, he just- looked at Remus for several long moments.

“I am still angry,” he said finally, “And I don’t know if I forgive you.”

Remus winced.

“But I accept your apology,” he continued. Sighing, he dragged a hand down his face and hopped up to sit on the desk.

“Are you at all familiar with the term ‘aromantic?’” said Janus, a little more businesslike.

“Uhhh, are you telling me I smell?”

“A-ro-man-tic,” Janus repeated, slower, “Not aromatic.”

“No,” said Remus, shaking his head.

“It describes a person who doesn’t experience romantic attraction,” continued Janus, “They make up a portion of the queer community, along with… transgender people. Like myself. Among others.”

Remus felt something very tiny and _zippy_ spin around his chest a bit.

“What like- ever?”

“There is a nuanced spectrum but- more or less,” said Janus, waving his hand again, “I cannot speak for you, but regardless of the label you decide on for yourself there are other people in the world who have no desire or capacity for romantic attachments.”

They fell silent, the zippy feeling growing and some horrible tension leaking out of Remus’s shoulders.

Not broken. Not missing something, just – different. And not even _that_ different – enough people there was a whole _word?_

Janus remained quiet after he finished, examining his nails idly as he let Remus process the words.

“And you’re… uh. Okay with that?” Remus finally managed quietly.

Biting his cheek slightly, Janus looked up.

“I’m not going to lie to you,” he said, looking more past Remus than at him, “I did hope that you would eventually grow to love me.”

Another wince.

“But you won’t,” said Janus quietly, shrugging, “And I would rather know it than keep hoping and making us both miserable in the process. I would be content to be even your distant, occasional friend over what we’ve been since we were married – I’m growing unbearably tired of avoiding my own sitting room, you see.”

Remus let out a short bark of a laugh – and Janus responded with something that could, maybe, in very dim light, be called a smile.

—

Remus also stopped avoiding the sitting room.

They talked – it was stilted, awkward small talk about shit Remus knew neither one of them cared about, but it was talking. Janus showed up to lunch one day with – strangely guilty-looking - Roman and Virgil in tow, and from that day on they all ate together, just like before, only- well. With Janus.

Remus still sometimes felt a skitter of panic about it, but it was easier to deal with – less overwhelmingly terrifying. Janus and Patton got on like house on fire, Virgil finally had a proper sarcasm buddy, and Roman-

Well, Roman was a little confusing – he almost acted like Janus was some kind of _celebrity_ , hanging on every word he said and sometimes laughing nervously when Janus spoke to him. If Remus didn’t know for a fact that Roman with a crush looked a lot more clingy and Virgil-centric he might have suspected Roman had one on Janus.

Eventually the air between Remus and Janus seemed to – settle, a little, into something less painfully stilted and more just awkward.

Just in time for Remus to almost ruin it.

“Good morning, Remus,” said Janus quietly from his place in the window seat.

“Morning,” said Remus gruffly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“There’s coffee,” Janus continued, “Virginia brought it.”

Janus had joined in on Virgil’s “call the staff by their first names” agenda immediately, and Remus could tell Virgil was delighted. Remus tossed Janus a sleepy thumbs up before pouring a cup and chugging it immediately, which made Janus let out a slightly strangled noise.

“Doesn’t that _hurt?_ ” he said incredulously.

“Eh.” said Remus, shrugging, “Pretty sure I’ve fried most of my taste buds at this point anyway.”

Janus wrinkled his nose, staring for another moment before returning to his book.

Remus poured another cup of coffee. He had no idea how long Janus had been awake – his plate and cup were stacked neatly on the tray waiting for Ginny to cart them away. Janus was always awake before Remus, but Remus had to admit he was a little curious by how much – it might make Janus and Logan the only genuine early risers in the house.

Well, maybe- Remus had no idea when his parents normally woke up, and definitely did not care enough to ask.

Remus didn’t sit, instead nursing his second cup of coffee half-awake and standing, planning to leave for the woods when he was finished.

(Or maybe the garden. Remus hadn’t been back, since the wedding, but maybe today it wouldn’t make him sick to his stomach.)

Setting the cup down on the tray, Remus moved toward the door.

“Remus?” said Janus abruptly.

Remus stopped short, a sharp uptick in his heartbeat that he angrily tried to ignore – it was _fine._ Janus was fine with Remus not loving him. No need to flip shit every time he tried to talk to him.

“Yeah?”

Janus gestured to the book.

“Would you like to read with me?”

Remus couldn’t help the immediate wince, and Janus instantly smiled, shaking his head.

“Never mind,” he said, waving his hand nonchalantly, “It’s no trouble-”

“I- wait, wait wait wait!” said Remus, “I don’t- it’s not that I don’t _want_ to-”

“Really,” said Janus, gentler, putting up his hand, “You don’t have to. It was only a suggestion.”

“I’m just _bad_ at reading!” blurted Remus, embarrassed.

Janus frowned.

“… Bad at reading?”

“Yeah,” said Remus, shrugging awkwardly, “Uh- the words kinda jump around and I get headaches and shit. Not really a reading for, uh. Fun, person.”

“Oh,” said Janus, surprised, “That sounds unpleasant, I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

Janus looked considering.

“… I could read _to_ you?” he suggested.

“I don’t- I don’t think we’d like the same books.”

Janus’s face took on a sudden, frustrated edge.

“Remus,” he said, a little exasperated, “You really can just say no. I’m not going to be angry.”

“Do you like horror novels?” said Remus helplessly.

Janus raised an eyebrow and lifted up the book, whose title Remus couldn’t quite make out from here.

“ _The Woman in White?_ ” said Janus awkwardly, “It’s a murder mystery. I don’t know if that necessarily constitutes horror, but…”

“No, that’s- that works.” said Remus, “I’ll uh. Sit on the couch? If you won’t have to like, shout.”

“If you can hear me from there you can hear from the sofa, Remus.” said Janus dryly.

“Right,” said Remus, flushing.

Flopping down on his stomach on the couch, Remus set his chin on his hands. Across the room, Janus earmarked his page and began flipping back to the beginning.

“You don’t have to start over – I don’t mind,” said Remus.

“Nonsense,” said Janus, tch-ing, “Like I would give myself an unfair advantage in trying to figure out who the murderer is before you.”

Remus snorted before he could stop himself.

“What, it’s a contest?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course it is,” said Janus. “Everything’s more fun when it’s a contest.”

“Guess I can’t really argue with that.”

Janus tossed him a small, friendly smile before turning back to the book and starting from the beginning.

“ _This is the story of what a Woman’s patience can endure, and what a Man’s resolution can achieve…”_

Janus’s voice actually turned out to be something of an unfair advantage at the whole contest thing – even and soothing, and several times Remus found himself nodding off a little before jerking back into wakefulness.

He spent the rest of the morning like that, drowsing in and out to the sound of Janus’s mystery novel, and honestly couldn’t find much of anything to complain about.

No more pressure, Remus thought – and for the first time since Remus’s fingers had stained gold, he thought that maybe this wouldn’t be that bad.

—

Remus was going to have to get over his aversion to the gardens eventually.

He kind of _lived here_ , and avoiding a solid quarter of the grounds for the rest of his life would be a bit ridiculous. Maybe if he just kind of – shoved through the discomfort and got it over with, that would fix it.

Janus wasn’t in their sitting room when Remus left. That wasn’t all that weird – Janus spent a lot of time with Remus’s brothers and their soulmates, honestly way more than he did with Remus. Remus figured he’d just gone to eat breakfast with one of the pairs.

Remus stood just inside the glass-paneled double doors to the garden, looking out over the hedges through the window and trying to psych himself up.

The door behind him opened and Remus turned to look – a maid he only vaguely recognized came through with a laundry basket under her arm, looking a little spaced out.

At least until she saw Remus and yelped like he’d kicked her.

“I- hello, sir!” she said, clearly scrambling and giving him a poorly practiced curtsy, “I- I know I’m not supposed to go through here, I’m so sorry, I was- running late-”

“Okay wow just- chill,” said Remus, putting his hand up, “I’m not gonna snitch on you, calm down, fuck.”

The maid just blinked at him, wide-eyed.

“Uh- what’s your name?” said Remus.

“Miss Welch, sir,”

“Your _first_ name.”

Her expression turned a little wary.

“… Caprice.”

“Caprice,” repeated Remus, “And what’s your job, exactly, Caprice?”

Caprice looked absolutely baffled that he would do something as simple as ask what her _job_ was, which made Remus feel like he should maybe take Virgil’s insistence that they make a bigger effort to be nice to the staff a little more seriously.

“I’m, uh – the laundry maid,” she said, gesturing to the basket.

“What, all by yourself?” said Remus incredulously.

“No, but- well, I’m in charge,” she said, “Unofficially, but I’m the oldest, so-”

“You’re like _twelve_ ,”

“I’m _nineteen_ ,” she snapped back, clearly offended, and then paled again when she realized what she’d done.

“Okay, well, Caprice Welch who is apparently fucking nineteen and somehow the oldest laundry maid-” said Remus, “I’m really not gonna snitch on you for walking through the sunroom with dirty laundry.”

Watching him cautiously, Caprice nodded.

“… Okay,” she said, “Um- were you looking for-”

She hesitated, narrowing her eyes at him.

“… Janus?” she said, watching him carefully.

The flare of irritation was kind of drowned out by the way she was… clearly _testing_ him somehow, but Remus couldn’t figure out what about – why would a servant care if he was looking for-

Oh.

“No, I wasn’t looking for Janus,” Remus replied.

Caprice immediately looked deeply pleased.

Remus should probably feel a little weird about the staff judging him so obviously, but honestly it was – a little nice, to know that it wasn’t just the five of them who actually gave a shit about Janus’s name and pronouns.

“Well, he’s in the garden if you change your mind – Candy is always talking about sneaking him bread rolls while he’s out there, and she just ran past me earlier to go after him. Candy’s one of the kitchen maids,” she added at Remus’s baffled look.

How many maids do we _have?_ Remus thought, at which point a very annoying voice that sounded like Virgil said that was something he should probably know about the house he _lived in_.

“Thanks for telling me,” said Remus, only kind of meaning it, but Caprice just grinned at him, clearly delighted.

“Am I dismissed?” she said happily, gesturing to the basket, “I _am_ a little late.”

“Oh, sure, whatever,” said Remus, “Go, uh- laundry, I guess. Have fun.”

Caprice actually _laughed_ , making her way past him to the outdoors, and Remus watched the door close behind her with a frown.

Janus was apparently in the garden.

Which, now that Caprice had said it, Remus felt like he should have remembered on his own – hadn’t Logan said Janus practically lived there for the first few weeks? And it had been only spring then – they were edging toward summer now, and everything was in bloom. Of course Janus would be out there.

Wavering, Remus stared at the door for several minutes.

Shoving it open, he walked just a touch too fast across the lawn and into the hedgerows.

The gardens were a looping, ever-winding labyrinth of precisely trimmed shrubs, interspersed with flowerbeds and fountains, that didn’t even make an attempt at looking natural. Remus knew there was a kitchen garden around the other side of the house, but he didn’t really spend a lot of time there. The cook, one Mrs. Michelle Butcher, was a crotchety, cranky harpy who had made it _very_ clear Remus wasn’t welcome as a child, and he wasn’t interested in testing it.

Remus had no idea where Janus hung out in the garden, and the shrubs made it a little difficult to look for him outright, so Remus just wandered, listening for footsteps or the rustle of heavy fabric – Janus had very much not taken to Patton’s attempts to dress him down, and wore just as many layers as Remus’s parents.

Stepping around a corner, Remus was not prepared for Janus to leap up from a crouched position and cram something inside the folds of his caplet.

“Uh… hi?” said Remus hesitantly.

“Oh,” said Janus, a little ruffled, “It’s you,”

“Don’t sound too excited.”

Filter, _filter,_ ANY kind of filter would be good, why would he _say that?_

“Right, I’m practically fawning,” said Janus, rolling his eyes, clearly unamused. “What is it? Are your dreadful parents demanding more mandatory meals where we all cheerfully pretend we don’t despise one another?”

“Oh, fuck I hope not,” said Remus immediately.

“We agree on something,” deadpanned Janus.

“Murder mysteries and my parents being shitty – we’re practically best friends already.”

The joke fell slightly flat but Janus gave him what was clearly a pity smile over it.

“… Well,” said Janus, “If- there’s nothing else…?

“Right,” said Remus awkwardly, “Uh, actually- I was wondering if I could. Hang out.”

Janus stared.

“With you,” Remus continued with a wince, “Out here.”

Janus frowned.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said, pained.

“I know,” said Remus, smiling awkwardly, “That’s, uh- kinda the only reason I had the guts to ask in the first place?”

Wavering, Janus gave him a searching look.

“I really- I really _do_ wanna be your friend,” said Remus pathetically.

Janus’s face softened slightly, a little smile forming.

“You know,” he said, amused, “You really are quite sweet when you aren’t being incomparably boorish on purpose.”

Remus flinched, but Janus waved his hand.

“Apologies, “he said, “That sounded rather more passive-aggressive than I intended. You-”

He wavered for a fraction of a moment.

“You may stay,” he finished, “Mostly I just walk around, though, you’ll probably be dreadfully bored.”

Remus shrugged, and Janus gave him an expression that Remus could only imagine translated to “if you must” and gestured for Remus to follow.

Honestly? It was kind of painful.

They fumbled through a handful of conversation topics – the weather got them through a few excruciating minutes, and then Remus’s brothers and their respective soulmates through another half-dozen. Remus kind of felt like he was dying.

“Interesting that you all look so similar,” said Janus in a tone that didn’t sound particularly interested, “Obviously you and Roman are twins, but Logan resembles you closely as well.”

“Yeah, well- unlike other red hair and green eyes genes, Mother’s are apparently pretty aggressively dominant.”

Janus rolled his eyes.

“What a surprise,” he said dryly, “Something _aggressive_ about Lady Bitchroy-”

Janus went white as a sheet.

“Holy shit,” said Remus, gaping.

“I did _not_ say that out loud,” said Janus in a strangled voice.

“ _Bitchroy?_ ” exclaimed Remus, delighted.

“Oh my- shut _up_ , someone will _hear you!_ ” hissed Janus.

“You call her _Lady Bitchroy?_ ” said Remus, only barely able to lower his voice in his glee.

“ _Only in my head!”_

“ _Please_ tell me you call Father ‘Lord Bitchroy,’ I’m _begging,”_

Janus looked painfully frustrated, and his face was rapidly coloring from pale to mortified red.

“Generally,” he said tightly, “I refer to them collectively. ‘The Bitchroys’ is the typical format.”

“Fucking amazing,” said Remus, “Janus you’ve made my fucking _week_.”

“They’re your _parents_ , it’s entirely inappropriate for me to-”

“Oh, who _cares,_ ” scoffed Remus, “They’re bastards. They deserve way worse than objectively hilarious nicknames. You should tell Patton that one, he’ll love the pun.”

“I most certainly will _not,_ ”

“No, _really,_ he’ll love it,” insisted Remus, “You got any more? Because seriously, that’s fucking amazing.”

His mouth pinching, Janus crossed his arms and mumbled something inaudibly.

“What was that?”

“ _Dragon Witch!”_ hissed Janus, leaning forward like someone was lurking in the bushes eavesdropping, “You know, like- the fairytales, with the dragons and the hags, and I thought- the red hair was like scales-”

Remus _cackled,_ and Janus gave him an utterly exasperated look.

“We should- If you combine them-” laughed Remus, “You get ‘Dragon Bitchroy’ which is fucking comedy gold-”

“You’re _terrible_ ,” said Janus, but Remus could see that he was faltering, trying not to laugh himself.

“We _have_ to tell my brothers, they’ll never stop laughing-”

“About me giving your _mother_ multiple derogatory nicknames?”

“Janus,” giggled Remus, “I have called my mother _way_ worse shit – at least yours are funny,”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Janus let out a long sigh.

“Fine,” said Janus, “We _are_ already in the open grave, why _not_ keep digging?”

“That’s the spirit,”

“You know if she finds out there will be no peace for any of us?” said Janus, “I haven’t even _been_ here that long and even I can tell that,”

“You a narc, Janus?”

Janus made an incredibly offended noise.

“Then we’re good!” said Remus, “And no one’s gonna narc on _you,_ obviously. Pretty sure my brothers and their boy-toys like you better than they like _me_ right now.”

“That isn’t true,” said Janus, frowning immediately.

“Ehhhhh,”

“It _isn’t_ ,” said Janus, eyebrows pinching.

“They’re kinda pissed at me for the-”

Remus gestured awkwardly at Janus face, regretting it when Janus self-consciously readjusted his hair to fall more fully over the mark.

“Well, they shouldn’t be,” snapped Janus, scowling, “I won’t claim you handled it well but you can hardly be blamed for panicking. I don’t know what I would have done if-”

He cut off abruptly.

“…If…?”

“Would you like a bread roll?” said Janus, in the most painfully transparent change of subject Remus had ever seen in his life, “There is a very friendly kitchen maid who sneaks them to me, I am sure we could locate her with a bit of looking.”

Remus stared.

“… Are you gonna explain that?”

“No, I am not,” said Janus simply, giving Remus a placid smile.

Fair enough.

“Okay,” said Remus, “I think the laundry maid told me about your kitchen maid, uhhhh, Cameron?”

“Candace,” said Janus, moving toward the manor, “She’s the scullery maid and apparently the cook is very similar to her employer-”

“Lady Bitchroy,” Remus cut in.

Janus gave an exasperated sigh.

“ _Yes,_ very well- anyway, Dear Mrs. Butcher seems to have the kitchen staff successfully petrified of her-”

Which devolved into a discussion about who was worse, Michelle or Cedric Stern, the butler – apparently Janus had an unpleasant run-in with him some weeks ago, in which Cedric had assumed from Janus’s ill-fitting and clearly secondhand clothes that he was one of the servants, and had proceeded to be _incredibly_ nasty.

“I wouldn’t talk to an animal like that, it’s a wonder all the staff haven’t _quit_ ,” said Janus, “He didn’t even apologize after he figured out who I was. I know they’re not exactly stylish but there’s no need to be _rude,”_

Abruptly, Remus had an epiphany, and immediately felt like an idiot for not thinking of it before.

“We do have a seamstress,” said Remus, “Two, uh, this old lady named Liberty and her daughter. They-”

_Made my wedding suit,_ had been what he was going to say, but the words shriveled and crawled back down his throat.

“-Alter a lot of my clothes,” he finished, a little strangled. If Janus noticed, he didn’t say.

“Don’t be absurd,” said Janus, a bitter twist to his mouth, “The last thing I need is an old biddy harping about what _shame_ it is to hide ‘such a pretty figure’ in men’s clothes. I would really rather be buried alive.”

“No, Libby is- Libby is nice,” said Remus, “She embroiders cool animals on the hems of my nice clothes instead of just boring shit because she knows I like them.”

Janus looked undeniably suspicious, but he was clearly considering it.

“… Okay,” he said, “I will… ask the seamstress for clothes.”

He bit the inside of his cheek a little.

“Thank you for the suggestion.”

“You’re welcome,” said Remus, giving him the most awkward thumbs up of his life.

Huffing a little laugh, Janus gestured to the manor once more.

“I believe we were about to steal bread rolls?”

Remus laughed.

“Sounds good to me,”

—

Remus had to admit that it _was_ kind of nice not avoiding his own quarters.

Sometimes Janus read aloud, and sometimes they indulged in their new joint hobby of making fun of Remus’s parents, but most of the time if they were sharing the space they did it silently, Janus reading to himself instead and Remus just passing through on his way in or out with a wave.

That had been the plan – Remus had come back from the woods with a little canvas bag of what he was pretty sure were squirrel bones, hidden under his clothes. As soon as he entered the sitting room he knew something strange was going on – Remus could hear indistinct, slightly raised voices from Janus’s room, which was a bit bizarre.

Remus stood in the door to the hallway for a long moment, wavering, before darting into his room to stash the bones and then making his way over to Janus’s door.

He hesitated another scant moment, and knocked on the door.

The faint chatter inside halted, and after pause Janus answered.

“Yes?” he called.

“Uh- it’s Remus. Are you… okay in there?”

“Come in!” called another voice that was distinctly _not Janus,_ and which Remus recognized as Libby the seamstress.

Too curious to resist, Remus opened the bedroom door and stepped inside.

The first surprise was Patton, sitting on the bed with a small, worried frown. Remus hadn’t had a chance to really _look around_ the last time he was in here, so he took a moment to do so – the layout was a mirror of his own room on the other side, though the color scheme looked a lot less haphazard, everything a little neater and less clumsy.

But the really big thing, which Remus really wasn’t sure how he’d missed the first time, was the vanity – just as well organized as everything else in the room, the little stool pushed in neatly and perfume bottle in little lines, and an opaque white sheet draped over the mirror.

Remus hadn’t really thought about the fact that Janus’s soulmark was on his face, but this- this was pretty hard to ignore.

If Remus’s parents had been so upset with the placement of Remus’s soulmark, what must Janus’s parents have thought about _his?_

Shaking himself, Remus turned his attention back to the other people in the room.

Libby’s daughter, Ariel, was sitting at the desk, muttering over a sketchbook, and Libby crossed the room to give Remus a smile and gesture him inside.

“The young sirs are having an argument,” she said quietly, “Would you be a dear and be the tie-breaker?”

But she’d clearly not been quiet enough.

“We don’t need a tie-breaker, they’re _my clothes!”_ Janus said hotly.

“Janus,” said Patton, reaching out to squeeze Janus’s hand, “I wouldn’t be pushing if I didn’t think it was _important.”_

“They’re the same clothes I’ve worn for years.” snapped Janus.

“And how many times have you _fainted?_ ” said Patton plaintively.

Janus crossed his arms with a scowl.

“I just _worry,_ ” said Patton, “About _all_ of you, especially since summer’s starting. It’s not _good_ for you, Janus.”

Janus’s scowl deepened, glancing around the room. He looked-

Honestly, he looked a little cornered.

“… They’re not that bad,” said Remus, testing, “I mean, sometimes they don’t even notice as long as the sleeves are still long and I’m only passing them from a way’s away, or something.”

Janus took a half-step back from both of them.

_Definitely_ cornered.

“But I mean- I guess it’s not _that_ big a deal,” said Remus, trying to catch Patton’s eye and somehow communicate “chill.”

Patton’s mouth pinched in a horribly distressed frown, and Remus couldn’t help but feel a little bad for him – he really _did_ look like he was gonna jump out of his skin he was so anxious.

“Janus-” Patton tried again.

“I _can’t_ , alright?” hissed Janus, “I have a hard enough time getting anyone to take me seriously as a man _in_ the layers hiding all the-”

He gestured wildly to his whole self, and Patton and Remus winced in unison.

“Sirs?”

As one they turned to Ariel, who had an incredibly triumphant and slightly smug look on her face.

“I think I’ve found a solution?” she said, gesturing to her sketchbook.

“Ari,” said Libby, a warning note in her voice, “You had better not be about to give poor Mr. Fitzroy a heart attack with something scandalous.”

Remus started, wondering what on Earth Ariel could show _him_ that would come even close to making him uncomfortable – until he realized Libby was talking about _Janus._

“I’m not,” said Ariel, practically vibrating as she crossed the room and showed Janus the sketchbook.

Janus’s lip curled immediately.

“I’m _not_ wearing stays,” he said immediately.

“They aren’t,” said Ariel, holding up her hand, “Look, see- I drew the boning going completely vertical, no curve. And if we laminated multiple layers of linen, and maybe some very stiff silk satin or even canvas, you should be able to wear any of Mr. Sanders-Fitzroy’s suggestions without any sort of the – revealing, you’re worried about.”

Janus took the sketchbook from her, examining it with a pinch in his brow, while Patton sighed deeply and said “Sweetie, I’m begging you to call me Patton.”

Janus swallowed.

“… You can make this?”

“If you want me to, I _will_ make it,” said Ariel firmly.

Janus bit the inside of his cheek.

“And you’re sure it will… work?”

“I am,” she said, “I’ll only need to take a few more of your measurements – something that close to your body will need to be much more exact.”

All at once, Janus sat down on the bed, his face a little pale.

“… Janus?” said Patton gently.

“I’m fine,” said Janus, “Only- um-”

He swallowed firmly before looking over at Remus, with a pleasant expression.

“Would you mind terribly, um- leaving?”

Remus blinked at him.

“Oh, uh- yeah. Sure,”

Made sense Janus wouldn’t want Remus around while he was getting measured for _undergarments_ – waving, Remus turned and made his way out of the room, shutting it quietly behind him.

The moment the knob clicked, there was a tiny, horrible little choking noise, so quiet Remus almost missed it. Remus bit the inside of his cheek, a little curl of sympathy in his stomach, and left their quarters entirely.

He’d deal with the animal bones later – if Janus didn’t want Remus to hear him cry, Remus damn well wasn’t going to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cws: really bad internalized arophobia/amatonormativity, discussion of shitty parents, Remus’s dead things hobby, some sorta internalized transphobia self-deprecation comments, unintentional misgendering (Roman uses he/they pronouns but is not out to Remus, who continues to use only he/him)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has some sharp edges, and they have a tendency to catch each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a very big thank you to my beloved beta-reader @trivia-goddess!
> 
> more detailed tws in the end notes!

Furry animals and lizards were easier to find in the woods, but Remus had always preferred the garden for bugs – which meant breaking the mental block that had been preventing him from going in it was a big relief.

Remus highly doubted it was on purpose – Mother’s low opinion of insects was permanently etched into the inside of his skull, and Remus had no idea how much input she dictated to the gardeners besides – but there was a specific section of flowers that always attracted the most interesting butterflies.

Making his way through the hedges toward the patch, Remus scuffed his feet on the brick path as he went. He might run into Janus, who had already been gone when Remus left, but he found the panic that had so often come with the idea felt dim and far away.

Janus was less his husband and more his co-captive, when Remus really thought about it – which almost sounded fun in a very morbid way. If anybody was going to understand Remus’s frustration, it was Janus – so, no. An impromptu meeting in the garden would not feel like the end of the world.

Gradually, Remus became aware of humming – he’d already been thinking about Janus, so his first thought was that it might be him, but the voice was different. Following the sound through the hedges, Remus tried to locate it.

What he found was a scraggly-looking girl in an apron with a small basket tucked under her arm, looking surreptitiously around the corner of a hedge as if scouting ahead.

“Are you sneaking?” blurted Remus incredulously.

The maid – because what other women beside Mother were on these grounds? - let out a little screech of alarm and turned on her heel, shoving the basket behind her.

But when she saw Remus, she relaxed, bringing the basket around her again, and Remus realized it was Candy, the scullery maid who’d taken such a liking to Janus and kept sneaking him food.

“Hello, Mr. Fitzroy, sir,” she said brightly, “I’m sorry to bother, but do you know where your husband is?”

Remus contained the wince – co-captive, co-captive, _co-captive –_ and shook his head.

“No, I just got out here,” said Remus, “Why?”

“Oh, I just- I have lunch for him!” she said, holding up the basket, “I even got some cold meats and a bit of cheese this time, not just bread. Some grapes. It was anything I could sneak away from Cook.”

“Yeah, about that,” said Remus, “Why do you keep sneaking food to feed Janus? I mean, Butcher is a nightmare, I’d only steal something from her kitchen if I was like, _really_ bored.”

Candy looked a little hesitant.

“He, um- forgets, I think.” she said, “I don’t know what he does out here but he just gets caught up for hours and none of the parlor maids said he was having food brought out or eating with anyone else when I asked, so I just, um…”

A little twinge of guilt – had Janus actually been caught up, or was he just that certain he was unwelcome inside?

“Well, protip,” said Remus, shaking it off, “When you sneak, don’t make noise, kid.”

“… What noise?” said Candy, head tilted curiously.

Well, shit. Remus was officially attached to the scullery maid.

“Never mind,” said Remus, “Let’s find Janus before all your little snacks turn rancid in the heat and poison him.”

Candy squeaked in alarm.

“A joke!” said Remus, “It was a joke, please don’t quit, Janus might kill me for losing his favorite maid on top of everything else.”

Candy’s face smoothed out, and Remus relaxed – the next ten minutes were spent searching for Janus in a way that was not sneaky at all, because Candy really did seem totally unaware of her own humming.

Until she turned a corner, humming morphing into a delighted noise, and took off.

Remus followed, hanging back a little. Janus had actually discarded his caplet in the grass beside him, and it was the first time Remus had seen him without it. Janus scrambled to hide something in the limp fabric before leaping to his feet, putting himself firmly between Candy and whatever it was he’d just hidden.

“Hello, Candace,” he said, smiling even though he was being suspicious as fuck – Candace didn’t seem to notice.

“Hello!” she said brightly, “I brought you food, and look – cheese!”

Janus took the basket, smile widening – he didn’t seem to have noticed Remus standing back yet.

“Thank you, Candace,” said Janus, “But you really don’t _have_ to bring me food every day.”

“I don’t!” said Candy innocently, “Just days you’re out here.”

Laughing, Janus moved to set the basket behind him.

“Also, well-” said Candy, “The thing is, Ari will _never_ ask you herself because she’s way too proud but I know she’s been wondering if you liked the clothes she made you?”

“Ariel? The younger seamstress?”

“Yes,” said Candy, “She’s my soulmate,”

Remus managed not to react, but Janus didn’t.

Except Janus’s reaction wasn’t anything like Remus would have assumed – his smile widened to a grin.

“She’s lovely,” he said earnestly, “I love the clothes. The binder is – very comfortable, and works well. She’s quite talented, you must be very proud.”

Flushing, Candy nodded.

“You can pass on my compliments,” said Janus, “And I’ll be sure to repeat them when I ask her and her mother to come back to make me some winter clothing.”

Candy bounced happily.

“I’ll tell her!” she said, “I have to get back before Cook notices I’m gone-”

“Yes, you _do,”_ said Janus immediately, “If you get fired doing this I’ll never forgive myself, Candace. Please, go ahead.”

Candy laughed.

“Funny, your mister said almost the same thing,” she said, pointing her thumb behind her in Remus’s direction as she turned and walked away.

Janus finally noticed Remus standing there, his expression shuttering a little.

“Did he?” said Janus, still smiling but a lot less enthusiastically, “Funny. Have a good day, Candace,”

“One of these days I’m gonna get you to call me Candy!” she called over her shoulder.

“Somehow I doubt it!” Janus called back as she turned around the corner of the hedge.

Janus deflated a little as soon as she was out of sight, giving Remus a tight smile before turning back to the basket he’d set on the ground and sitting in the grass.

There was an awkward pause where Remus didn’t exactly know if he should say something. Janus looked up at him after a minute, mouth pinching.

“Are you going to sit, or are you going to loom over me for the rest of the afternoon?”

“Loom, definitely,” said Remus in his most serious voice.

The corner of Janus’s mouth twitched.

“If you must,” he said, “I’ll simply have to eat all the food myself while you miss lunch being strange on purpose.”

“Ehhhh, I guess I can pass on looming,” said Remus, moving over and sitting on the other side of the basket, “Especially for stolen stuff, that’s always fun.”

“I really will be upset if she gets in trouble,” muttered Janus, “She doesn’t listen when I tell her to stop, though.”

“She seems… nice,” said Remus, “Perky, definitely,”

“Glowing praise,” deadpanned Janus.

“Well, I was _gonna_ say she’s a little gremlin of a dork but I figured you’d think I was insulting her,”

Janus gave him an odd look, but didn’t respond, handing Remus one of the bread rolls, which immediately brought Remus’s attention to the fact that Janus’s hands were bare for what Remus was pretty sure was the first time he’d ever seen.

They were broader than Remus would have guessed – Janus was a pretty short guy – and surprisingly smudged with something dark. Remus couldn’t help but be curious about what Janus was doing out here that had him looking like he was digging in the dirt.

They constructed makeshift sandwiches by pulling apart the bread rolls, and Remus looked absentmindedly around the little square, wondering if he’d see any clues.

There were the little rigid, geometrically lined flower beds, the cross-barred square brick path, surrounded on all four sides by hedges with gaps that held branching paths. None of the flower beds looked disturbed.

Remus’s eyes drifted to Janus’s discarded caplet, the pale yellow gloves laid on top. Glancing at Janus again, Remus noticed he looked more comfortable in a similarly colored dress shirt than Remus had maybe ever seen him. His sleeves were even rolled up.

“You look nice,” said Remus.

Janus snorted.

“Thank you,” he said, in the most sarcastic tone of voice Remus had ever heard someone use the phrase.

“I mean it,” said Remus, frowning.

“I’m well aware that slightly better fitting clothes don’t exactly make me look any less like I’m playing dress-up.”

“Hey, what the _fuck?_ ”

Janus, startled, leaning back abruptly.

“… What?” he said incredulously.

“I don’t think you’re _playing dress-up,”_ said Remus vehemently.

Janus wrinkled his nose.

“I don’t- I didn’t intend to imply you were being cruel,” said Janus tightly, “I only mean I know what I look like. You don’t have to humor me.”

“I’m not fucking humoring you, either,” said Remus scowling, “When I say you look nice I mean you _look nice_ , Janus, I’m not gonna lie to your _face,”_

“Oh, so you’ll lie in other directions?” said Janus, clearly trying to change the subject.

Remus kicked Janus’s shin from across the grass.

“ _Hey-_ excuse me!” said Janus hotly.

“Seriously,” said Remus, “Don’t make me sic Patton on you,”

“ _Patton?_ ” said Janus, “What exactly is Patton going to do that I’m supposed to find threatening here?”

“Hug you until you learn to accept compliments,” said Remus, “He practically sat on Roman – and he’s got jacked arms from kneading bread dough so you won’t be able to get away.”

“How terribly classless.”

“Patton would one hundred percent think that was a compliment.”

“I’m sure,” said Janus.

Turning back to his makeshift sandwich, Janus inspected it with a little frown and a furrow between his brows.

“Do you-”

Janus shook himself abruptly.

“Thank you,” he said instead, less biting, “Genuinely, this time. Wouldn’t want to be assaulted by Patton, I suppose.”

Remus nodded, suddenly feeling awkward again now that Janus had stopped being self-deprecating.

“And speaking of assault, don’t kick me,” muttered Janus, rolling his eyes, “These pants are new, you heathen.”

“Oh, hey, did you know the oldest laundry maid is fucking nineteen?” said Remus, the slant mention of dirty clothes reminding him of his encounter with Caprice days before.

Janus looked a bit taken aback.

“… No,” he said, a slight laugh in his voice, “I didn’t, I don’t think I’ve met any of the laundry maids.”

If there was one thing Remus was good at it was filling a silence, so he launched into a cheerful recitation of the meeting, and Janus seemed content to let him talk while picking at the food in the basket.

And later, when Janus gathered up the basket and his discarded outerwear and waved a little over his shoulder as he left to go back inside, Remus found that really, it hadn’t been a terrible afternoon at all.

—

Remus definitely hadn’t _forgotten_ about his conversation with Patton – he just kind of wasn’t expecting it to come up again. Hadn’t it been – well, mostly – resolved, all of them able to move on with their lives?

Remus kind of forgot he wasn’t the only one who had a tendency to get cornered and politely lectured by Patton.

His brothers had been avoiding him. They’d been avoiding him for weeks, obviously, but it was a slightly different kind of avoidance now, an awkward hanging silence between the three of them at the meals all six of them shared, made painfully obvious by the fact that Logan and Roman seemed to have no problem talking to their soulmates or Janus.

But – whatever. It wasn’t the first time Remus fucked up. So it was taking a little while longer to blow over this time. No big deal.

(Some tiny, hurt feeling in his chest seemed to think it was, in fact, a big deal.)

Someone knocked at the door of the sitting room – Remus had left his door open while he looked for his better pair of boots, or he probably wouldn’t have heard it.

Leaving his room, Remus crossed to the door, wondering who it could be – it wasn’t mealtime, and he hadn’t asked any of the maids to bring him food besides. Janus wouldn’t have knocked; nobody else came to their quarters besides Patton, so Remus thought it might be him looking for Janus.

Remus opened the door, and came face to face with his brothers, looking distinctly uncomfortable and both of them slightly red.

“Uh… hi?” he said awkwardly.

“May we come in?” said Logan tightly.

Wincing, Remus wondered what they could be mad about this time – Remus had been perfectly polite to Janus in the past couple of weeks, hadn’t he?

He wasn’t prepared for the pained expression on Logan’s face at his reaction, or the smaller, weaker note in his voice when he spoke again.

“Please,” he said quietly.

Shrugging awkwardly, Remus moved to the side and opened the door gesturing for them to come in.

They walked past him, both of them clearly uncomfortable, and Remus kept wracking his brain, coming up with nothing.

“Can we sit?” said Roman quietly.

“What?” said Remus, “Yeah? Why wouldn’t you be allowed to sit?”

“I meant- can we all sit down?” said Roman, cringing.

While Remus was kind of used to being in trouble, _this_ was definitely new – this strange, out-of-sync awkwardness between the three of them. His brothers had been mad at him before - pranks gone too far, jokes landing too sharp, the painful occasions where his little tricks against their parents had gotten all three of them in trouble – but they had always understood each other.

Maybe Remus had fucked up worse than he thought.

Remus made his way toward the couch, heart-rate ticking up when Roman and Logan sat on the ends, forcing him between them. Wrapping his arms around his middle, he sat, squeezing himself and trying not to feel like he was about to be interrogated.

Logan cleared his throat, then did it again even more awkwardly. Even with his nerves shot, Remus couldn’t help but raise a dry eyebrow at him.

Logan flushed, and then he seemed to steel himself, sitting up straight.

“It has been brought to my attention that we- that _I_ owe you an apology.”

Remus’s train of thought came to a screeching halt.

“It was – irresponsible of me, to confront you about a perceived issue on a topic with which I myself am woefully unfamiliar. I know nothing about soulmates bar mine and Roman’s experiences and what I have gleaned indirectly from Patton and Virgil’s knowledge, and- holding you to a standard I understood from two data points was…”

He paused, furrowing his brow.

“Astonishingly stupid,” he settled on after a moment, startling a tiny, stunned laugh from Remus.

“And-” cut in Roman, voice cracking, “And- _accusing_ you of being… transphobic, about Janus, was- really, really, not okay, and I’m sorry.”

“ _We_ are sorry,” said Logan.

“If you insist on taking _credit_ for yelling at him about the- the soulmate thing, _this_ is my fault,” snapped Roman, scowling, “It was me who brought it up to you.”

That- hurt, a little, that it was Roman, his twin, someone who certainly felt more like his other half than any _soulmate_ could, who had thought that about him – but Roman looked so miserably guilty, picking at some lint on his pants with a morose expression, that Remus felt too much sympathy to properly hold it against him.

“There is not a shortage of blame to share,” said Logan, quiet and just a bit bitter, “We were – utterly tactless in our confrontation of you. We made no effort to ask your perspective of the situation, and while I still do not understand that perspective it is no excuse. I am incredibly sorry, Remus.”

Swallowing, Remus squeezed himself again.

“… Oh,” he said, tiny and croaking.

“Oh, _Ree,_ ” said Roman, his own voice wobbling ominously, “I- I’m so _sorry,_ please, _please_ don’t cry-”

Scooting closer, Roman pressed their sides together cautiously and Remus leaned into it with a gust of relieved breath. He hadn’t realized how he’d gotten used to his brothers touching him more often, or how hollow he’d felt missing it again, but something tightly coiled and rancidly miserable began to unfurl in his stomach.

“You were so mad at me,” Remus choked, “I thought- I thought I really fucked up forever this time.”

“You didn’t,” said Logan, expression pained, as he reached out and clumsily squeezed Remus’s hand, “I shouldn’t have been mad. The- mismatch, or- whatever is wr- _different_ about your soulmarks is not your fault, and I shouldn’t have yelled at you for it.”

“You’re not mad anymore?”

Logan’s face twisted, biting the inside of his own cheek – his eyes took on a sheen of their own, and he cleared his throat firmly.

“No,” he said softly, squeezing Remus’s wrist, “No, Ree, I’m not mad anymore.”

Remus shifted a little, opening up a space, and Logan moved in immediately and pressed up against Remus’s other side. Logan gingerly placed his arms around Remus’s shoulders, slow and easy to break, and Remus went easily into the embrace and tried not to burst into childish sobs when Logan squeezed Remus against his chest and kissed the top of his head.

The door opened, and panic flooded Remus as all three of them scrambled to break apart in case it was their parents – but it was only Janus in the doorway, blinking in surprise as his gaze flitted between the three of them.

There was a slightly awkward pause, before Janus’s expression smoothed into something just a little smug.

“I can come back later,” he said, smiling and turning to go back out the door.

“Nonsense,” said Logan, clearing his throat and just as crimson as Roman and Remus was sure himself as well, “These are your quarters as well, it would be rude to-”

“Logan,” said Janus dryly, cutting him off, “ _I am coming back later._ Alright?”

Logan squirmed a bit.

“… Alright,”

Janus smiled again.

“Good. Have a lovely afternoon.”

There was another uneasy pause when Janus left – and then Roman let out a nervous, embarrassed laugh and flopped right over on top of Remus again.

“I missed you,” he said wetly, “I’m never gonna get mad at you again, it _sucked.”_

“Liar,” laughed Remus.

“Yes, well,” said Logan, business-like and brusque, “If Janus is going to give us use of your sitting room we may as well do this properly.”

“Right,” said Remus, frowning at the couch, “I think- if we just kinda… all lean sideways-”

As always, it took them an embarrassingly long time to figure out how to get in some kind of cuddling position – it was always easier when Patton or Virgil was there to coach them – but as the three of them settled on the couch, draped over each other and Remus squished in the middle of his two favorite people in the world, he thought that maybe the extra effort made it a little special all on its own.

—

Remus was not a morning person.

So when the pale yellow light of just-barely-passed dawn was peeking between his curtains, the last thing he wanted was to be woken up by a deafening crash and the sound of shattering.

Jerking out of sleep, Remus flailed wildly as he sat up, looking blearily around the room – nothing was out of place, but he could hear frantic, quiet voices coming from the sitting room.

Scrambling foggily out of bed, Remus threw on a pair of sleeping pants he never bothered to actually wear to bed and a housecoat and made his way to the door, opening it and sticking his head out, squinting.

Janus and Ginny were on their knees next to the coffee table, both of them looking up with panicked expressions when they saw him. Cautiously, he stepped into the room.

“What-” he interrupted himself with a yawn, “What happened?”

Ginny cleared her throat, bowing her head a little, but Janus moved faster, throwing himself to his feet and standing between them.

“I knocked the breakfast tray off the table,” he said lightly, at odds with the tense line of his shoulders or the way he looked like he was about to fend off an attacker.

“Um-” said Ginny, “Actually-”

“Virginia was just helping me clean up my mess, is all,” Janus cut her off firmly, his eye contact with Remus never wavering _._

The fog of sleep was clearing from Remus’s brain as he looked between the two of them, frowning.

“…Do you really think I’m gonna tattle to my parents because Ginny broke a tea set?” said Remus flatly, scowling.

Janus bristled.

“Whatever,” muttered Remus, crossing the room, “We’ll get the pieces, Ginny, can you go get, like – a broom. Or a trash bin,”

Ginny looked anxiously between the two of them before moving to her feet, nodding awkwardly.

“I’ll be right back,” she said quietly, before clearly fleeing the room.

Janus turned back to the tea set with a frustrated noise, crouching down and angrily picking up the bigger pieces and dropping them on the tray with a series of agitated clatters.

Gritting his teeth, Remus moved around him – Janus didn’t make any effort to make room – and crouched across from him, doing the same.

Janus’s face was twisted in a scowl, and Remus felt his own mirroring it automatically – it wasn’t like _Janus_ had been accused of being a heartless snitch first thing in the morning, so Remus didn’t know what _his_ problem was.

Remus and Janus reached for the same piece at once and Janus practically lunged, snatching it right out from under Remus’s hand and dropping it noisily in the tray.

“Hey!” said Remus.

“ _What?_ ” Janus snapped back.

“What do you mean, _what?_ _You’re_ the one who just insulted me to my face, what’s _your_ fucking problem?”

Janus laughed hollowly.

“Right,” he said bitterly, “Insulting you, that’s what I was doing.”

“Oh, _what,_ you’re saying you _weren’t_ accusing me of being a snitch the first second you’ve seen my face today? Good morning to you, too, Janus.”

“I was _trying,_ ” shouted Janus, slamming the last of the big pieces down on the tray loudly, “To give you a level of _plausible deniability,_ so you wouldn’t have to _lie to anyone’s face_ if asked what happened to the _fucking_ tea set, Remus.”

Remus reared back.

“But if you are determined to think the worst of me at any given opportunity then fine, assume away,” he continued sarcastically, “Really, why on earth would I be trying to help you? It isn’t as if I am just as _hostage_ here as you are.”

Only little shards of ceramic and the food were left, which Janus began to pick, up still scowling. An uncomfortable swirl of guilt and frustration was twisting in Remus’s stomach.

“Why would I _want_ plausible deniability?” he demanded.

Janus scowled at him.

“Don’t speak in riddles.”

“Instead of me being in on the lie, you wanted me to throw _you_ under the bus instead?” said Remus.

Janus groaned, frustrated.

“I was simply trying to keep Virginia from getting _fired_ for one microscopic mistake _,_ I don’t know what you _want_ from me here-”

“I want you to stop acting like I don’t give a shit about you!”

Recoiling, Janus looked away immediately, turning away and going after the picky, tiny shards instead.

“… I wasn’t _lying_ when I said I wanted to be your friend, Janus,” said Remus, quietly frustrated, “And you _are_ the only person who understands what a- fucking shitshow we’re in. But we’re in it _together,_ and I don’t want you to- to keep acting like it’s your job to _protect_ me from it, fuck. I’m a big kid, I put on my own underwear and everything.”

Janus’s mouth twitched just barely before twisting back into a frown, clearly trying not to smile.

Sighing, Janus dropped the last bit of food on his side onto the tray before sitting down and leaning against the side of the sofa. The silence stretched between them.

“… We are quite a pair,” deadpanned Janus.

“Yeah, well,” said Remus gruffly, shrugging, “We’re pretty fucking stuck, so.”

Remus dropped the last of the ruined breakfast food onto the tray and mirrored Janus, leaning back against the chair and frowning at him.

Janus snorted suddenly in the quiet, and Remus raised his eyebrow.

“What?”

“Nothing,” said Janus, “A very stupid joke.”

“Well, now you gotta tell me, stupid jokes are my area of expertise.”

Janus continued shaking his head, and the door clicked open. They both looked up, and there was Ginny with a tiny hand-held broom and a dustpan, as well as a bucket with a rag hanging over the edge.

“Ginny!” said Remus, “Janus won’t tell me his joke, back me up-”

“Oh, don’t _harass_ the poor girl, for goodness sake, fine,” said Janus, rolling his eyes. Ginny looked a little alarmed as she came over to help them clean up the mess, and Janus took one of the rags from her before she could start doing it entirely by herself.

Clearing his throat, Janus looked off into the corner as he began dabbing at a coffee stain.

“I was only- well, I was thinking that when Lady Fitzroy dies, and your brother becomes the lord, there won’t be anything stopping us from getting a divorce.”

He gestured to the tray.

“And I was going to say that you get this tea set, because I want the yellow one.”

“ _What?”_ said Remus incredulously.

“I told you, it was a stupid-”

“You’ve been divvying up our shit for a divorce without consulting me? Dick move, Jan.”

Janus let out a tiny, disbelieving laugh.

“I get the good chair!” exclaimed Remus.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” said Janus, “I picked it out, it’s clearly mine.”

“Fine, the coffee table.”

“Considering you put your feet on it regularly I am not going to complain.”

“Also the curtains-”

“I spent two _hours_ picking out those curtains, you will take them over my dead body.”

“I’m going with Janus,” Ginny cut in suddenly, biting her lip in a grin.

Remus made a scandalized noise.

“Ginny, you fucking _traitor!_ ”

“What?” she said loftily, giving him a sideways glance, “ _He’s_ never tracked mud all the way from the sun-room to his quarters.”

Remus burst into laughter, and Ginny smiled at him and relaxed a few more degrees. Janus let out a little humming giggle, clearly trying to restrain it.

“You don’t seem surprised at this development,” said Janus a little curiously.

Ginny hesitated, glanced nervously at the door, and then plucked at the sleeve of her shirt, pulling it up a little.

Around her left wrist was the gray circle of a gripping hand.

“I understand,” she said, smiling softly.

She quirked her mouth in a wry little smirk.

“I wish you an amicable divorce.”

Janus made an aborted little half laugh and Remus practically crowed in response.

“Alright fine, abandon me,” said Remus.

“Glad you understand.”

“I would be happy to have you, Virginia.” said Janus, smiling slightly.

“I can’t believe you’re ganging up on me in my own quarters.”

By the time the three of them had the carpet mostly dry of coffee and juice, all the pieces swept up and the food piled on the tray, Ginny carrying it away with a grin on her face and happy nod over her shoulder, Janus and Remus had divided a solid quarter of the sitting room between them for their eventual amicable divorce.

Remus was going to put up a fight about the good chair though.

—

Lunches were a lot less painful now that Roman and Logan were talking to Remus again.

Louder, too, and happier, and just generally a lot more pleasant.

Remus sat between his brothers, their soulmates on their other sides, and Janus between Patton and Virgil. Janus seemed to like it there; Patton clearly adored him, and both he and Virgil happily answered Janus’s unending questions about life outside of the upper crust. Janus seemed to find all their answers fascinating.

“Thank you, Myra,” said Patton, waving as the maid finished filling his glass. She nodded tightly and Remus couldn’t help but feel a little bad for Patton when his face fell.

While there were a lot of servants who Remus was gradually starting to view as friends and who Patton clearly already did, there were just as many who were clearly not on board. Patton watched Myra go with a little frown until Remus heard the door click shut, and then Patton turned back to Janus and Virgil’s conversation.

“And what sort of instruments do you play?” asked Janus.

“Well, or just tolerably?” said Virgil dryly.

“You play everything well,” said Roman, clearly kicking Virgil under the table, “You only _think_ you play the harpsichord poorly and I have no idea why.”

“I’m clumsy, the rhythm is always off-”

“I would like to hear someday,” blurted Janus, “I like the big band music but I’ve only ever heard it on record players.”

Virgil’s face softened a little in the same way it did every time Remus or his brothers said something Virgil found particularly pitiful, and he knocked a small, gentle punch to Janus’s shoulder.

“I’ll do you one better – we’ll all take you to hear an actual band, not just me fucking around on a guitar.”

“… I don’t know about that,” said Janus awkwardly.

“Why?” said Remus, “I’m officially not under house arrest anymore because of the-”

He gestured between them.

“-There’s no reason we can’t all leave.”

Janus hesitated.

“… Alright,” he said, still looking slightly anxious, “Why not, I suppose?”

“That’s the spirit,” said Remus, “I’ve gotten Roman and Logan into all sorts of fantastic trouble on ‘why not.’”

“I’m sure,” said Janus dryly.

“Indeed you have,” said Logan, rolling his eyes, “Though Roman is in a very close second place for hare-brained schemes.”

“My ‘fun story’ senses are tingling,” said Patton, wiggling in his chair a little.

“‘Fun’ is not necessarily the word I would use,” said Logan.

“When we were like ten, I once snuck one of the cook’s chickens into the house and set it loose in the ballroom during a dinner party.”

“Chicanery for which Mrs. Butcher has never forgiven you,” said Logan.

“Eh, Butcher’s a-”

A flashbulb went off in Remus’s mind.

“Janus!” he blurted, cutting himself off and grinning across the table, “Mrs. Bitcher!”

Janus abruptly almost spat out his drink, barely managing to swallow before bursting into laughter around hacking coughs, snorting a few times.

“I’m- _snrk_ \- I’m sorry,” he managed, “Give- give me a moment-”

“You _snort!?_ ” exclaimed Patton, “Oh my goodness _gracious_ -”

“ _Ahem,”_ said Janus, gradually composing himself, “Right. Yes. I-”

He huffed a tinier, aborted laugh before clearing his throat again and shaking himself.

“Right,” he said again, “Good one.”

Remus, for his part, could feel himself grinning – he was gonna get quite a bit of entertainment out of making Janus laugh in random situations, he could already tell.

He heard the door behind him open, and Patton perked up to wave again at Myra, before cocking his head and looking curious.

“Leona?”

“Yes, sir?” she said calmly.

Remus turned to look over his shoulder; everyone followed suit, and sure enough, there she was – the head housemaid, who reported directly to the housekeeper and who Remus rarely saw outside of their parent’s wing of the house.

“… Do Mother or Father need something?” said Logan stiffly.

“No,” she said simply, “I am replacing Miss Oliver as your lunch server.”

Logan’s mouth pinched.

“Mother didn’t mention,” he said tightly.

“Lady Fitzroy did not appoint me,” said Leona, “I made the assignment myself.”

There was an awkward pause. Logan exchanged a calculating glance with Patton.

“… May I ask why?”

Leona straightened a little.

“I think all the young sirs and their _husbands_ should be served respectfully,” she said, stiffly and just a bit aggressively, “Miss Oliver and I disagree on the particulars.”

She hadn’t looked away from Logan since he’d spoken to her, a picture of respect, so it was very obvious when her eyes slipped off him for a moment and her eyes flickered to look at Janus, then back.

Next to Remus, Roman’s hand made a nervous fluttering motion before curling into a fist that he tucked under the table. Remus’s own stomach twisted uncomfortably, and Logan’s expression went _glacial_.

Remus hadn’t actually seen Logan interact much with Janus – but he knew that angry, protective-big-brother face like a favorite shirt, and it was a little gratifying to know Logan would turn it on people for Janus, too. Whatever the maid had done – and unfortunately, Remus had a pretty good guess, considering the emphasis Leona had put on _husbands_ – Logan was clearly not going to forgive her for it.

“Thank you for informing Miss Oliver we will have no more need of her assistance,” Logan said icily.

Leona smiled.

“It was my pleasure, sir,” she said

She gave Logan a curtsy that was just too deep and overly respectful enough, that Remus knew it would have pissed off Mother to see it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> referenced parental abuse, transphobia, dysphoria, and employee abuse


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Generally when you find yourself in a hole, you stop digging, but Remus didn’t get the memo.
> 
> He did, however, get a very unwelcome invite to a very unpleasant party, which goes... surprisingly, not as purely terrible as it could have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to @trivia-goddess for beta-reading!
> 
> (See the end notes for more detailed tws)

Remus should have known the semi-peace that they’d landed on was too good to be true.

He really didn’t like to think about the fact that his parents seemed serious about dragging Remus along to all of their social events along with Logan. They’d been letting him get away with saying no up until now, but Remus could tell the goodwill induced by Janus’s arrival was running thin.

He especially didn’t like to think about it when it came to Logan. There was always the possibility that it wasn’t simply an effort to show off their “most respectable” son to society, or to distract from Logan’s “mistake.” Remus dreaded the day their parents might try to include Remus in some kind of _governing_ , and confirm what he was sure they all suspected, that they intended to replace Logan as the heir.

Well, they could certainly try. Remus would simply give it right back over Mother’s dead body, and there would be nothing she could do about it but roll in her grave.

They’d brought up the next one at dinner, and how pleased they’d be if Remus attended, and he hadn’t said anything to confirm. But they’d been _watching_ him, and Janus too, with their twisted disapproving expressions, and Remus had been dreading whatever their clearly displeased response was going to be.

He was both really grateful and slightly despairing that days later, when he’d found out, Janus wasn’t around.

Someone knocked on the sitting-room door. Janus had been whisked away by Roman for Remus didn’t know what, and Remus was alone, embroidering rude sayings on some swatches of fabric purely for amusement. Frowning, he tried to remember if he’d rang for food and came up blank as he stood and crossed the room to answer it.

Liberty, the seamstress stood in the hall, her skin ashen with what looked like _dread_ , and her slightly stooped shoulders drawn even lower than usual.

“… What’s wrong?” said Remus immediately.

Liberty gave him a heartbroken look.

“Lady Fitzroy had me alter some clothing for the two of you, dear,” she said quietly, “For the upcoming party at the Darcey estate.”

And it was the drop of the respectful terms that made Remus’s stomach pool with cold dread. Libby had been a lot more affectionate when Remus had been small, but she only brought out pet names these days when Remus was upset.

She held out the two bundles, and Remus scrabbled immediately at the brown wrapping, tearing it with panic thrumming in his veins.

And of course – a suit, in the house colors of red and blue, and a gown in petal pink.

Remus shoved the dress back in Libby’s arms.

“Do you have anything nice enough you can make fit him?” he demanded.

Libby bit her lip.

“She won’t let him,” she whispered, pained, “You know she won’t, there’s nothing-”

“I’ll fix it,” said Remus, a little hysterical, “I’ll- just- just do it. I’ll figure something out, I promise, I won’t get you in trouble.”

Libby stared for a moment, wavering.

“Okay, sweetheart,” she said softly, “I’ll make something work,”

“ _Thank you,”_ said Remus.

Libby turned away and hurried down the hall, the dress clutched to her chest. Remus leaned his head against the door frame and let himself shake with frustration for exactly one minute before he gritted his teeth and started heading towards his parents’ wing of the house.

Every time Remus felt like Mother and Father won in every way they could, there was more. And it was going to be like that, wasn’t it? His parents had never been satisfied with every choice and chance and happiness they took from the three of them, and now Patton and Virgil and Janus. There was always going to be one more thing.

Not this, though. Janus had looked like he was going to be sick the entire night at the engagement party. Even then, it had made Remus feel guilty and awful, knowing it was his _stupid_ cursed mark on Janus’s face that made him stuck here. And now Janus was his friend, or something approaching it, and Remus didn’t want to find out how much worse that feeling could get.

Remus stopped a stone-faced maid on her way down a hall to figure out exactly where his mother was. He tried to think back if he’d ever actually sought out this part of the house, or if he’d only ever been summoned here under duress or in trouble. He couldn’t think of one.

First time for everything.

He knocked on the door of Mother’s solar, squaring his shoulders and swallowing around the bitter, acidic bile rising in his throat.

“Enter,” she called.

Swallowing heavily, Remus pushed open the door, clicking it shut behind him and trying to ignore the way being alone with his mother made him feel painfully like the caterpillar, facing the glass.

“Hello, Remus dear,” she said, poisonously pleasant, “Do you and Theodora like your outfits for the Darceys’ ball?”

Fuck. Fuck fuck _fuck_. Of course she knew exactly why Remus was here. He had no idea if this was going to work, and it honestly probably wasn’t, but Remus had to at least _try_.

“I had Mrs. Brice alter an old dress of mine,” continued Mother airily, “I had no idea Theodora wasn’t aware we had a seamstress to make her whatever gowns she would like.”

She fixed him with an intent stare.

“Is there a reason you didn’t tell her, dear?”

She knew, she knew, she knew _everything_ and they both knew it, and Remus had to play this absolutely perfectly or she was going to come down like a hot iron on the back of his and Janus’s necks and he knew it was fucking inevitable but he hoped to put off exposing Janus to the full force of what Mother was capable of for as long as possible.

Remus smiled pleasantly, shrugging.

“It’s like I told you,” he said, waving his hand dismissively, “I don’t particularly care what-”

He scrambled for a fraction of a second.

“-Dora wears,” he finished, because okay, that was sufficiently… affectionate, right? It was what Janus’s mother had called him. Something that made it sound like he was indulging the wife that didn’t fucking exist.

Mother hummed noncommittally.

“I suppose I must expect you to be overly lenient of her nonsense,” she said, “But really Remus dear, you can’t expect everyone to put up with it forever. And certainly not in _public_ , it’s indecent,”

“She really is good company when she isn’t whining,” said Remus, “If we go to the ball with her in a dress she’ll only be sullen the whole night anyway. If she’s going to make a terrible impression either way, I’d really rather have her smiling, Mother,”

It wasn’t the first time he’d thought it – not even close – but right then, speaking words that made Remus feel like his mouth was full of broken glass and poison, Remus hated his mother so much that for a moment his vision swam with the image of simply picking up the teacups on her table and smashing them over her head one by one.

Mother’s face pinched into the slightest scowl.

“Please,” blurted Remus and that, _that_ was a mistake, that was giving away too much, he’d fucked it up completely-

Mother gave him a narrow-eyed scowl for ten seconds where Remus didn’t even breathe, and then-

And then her face smoothed completely. She smiled at him, and a stone fell into the cold well of Remus’s stomach.

“Very well,” she said, “Happy wife, happy life, and such. I can see you are very fond of your little bride, so I will let you indulge her for however long her mood lasts.”

“… Thank you, Mother,” said Remus, that icy rock spinning in his stomach.

A catch. Remus didn’t know yet what it was, but there was always a catch.

Mother waved her hand, a clear dismissal.

“Run along, then,” she said sweetly, “I will see you at dinner.”

Remus did his best not to clearly flee the room, moving at a forcibly sedate pace.

“Oh, and Remus?” she called just as he reached the door.

“… Yes, Mother?” he said, turning to look at her with his hand still on the knob.

She smiled slowly, like a creeping vine.

“I do hope you will remember how _very_ accommodating I’m being.”

Swallowing, Remus nodded.

“Of course, Mother.”

Nodding, she waved him off again, and Remus managed not to bolt until he’d reached the end of her hallway, skin crawling with horrible, biting ants of panic.

He’d done what he’d set out to do – he’d tried to fix it.

But somehow, Remus got the feeling that all he’d just done was make everything so much worse.

—

Remus had meant to tell Janus. It was twice now he’d done it, with good intentions but _still_ , and besides hadn’t he told _Janus_ not to leave _him_ out of the loop when they were just trying to get through this as best they could, together?

But by the time he’d found Janus, Libby had beaten him there, and Janus had been clutching a set of hastily altered men’s dress clothes and absolutely beaming as he showed them off to Patton, and Remus couldn’t bring himself to tell him and ruin it entirely.

Remus would tell him, at some point. He _would._

Just… not today.

Making his way toward the foyer dressed in the second-most uncomfortable and therefore second-most _fucking respectable_ outfit he owned, Remus took a moment to be thankful that his parents at least hadn’t gone as far as to _not_ make Logan come. They’d done their best to try and get him to leave Patton home, but Logan had managed to talk his way into bringing him, having always been much better at the subtleties of managing their parents’ moods than Roman or Remus.

No one was in the room, but he could hear voices outside, and when he followed them out and looked over the railing he found Logan, Janus, and Patton grouped in a corner. He went halfway down the staircase before vaulting over the railing and Janus jumped like a startled cat.

“Morning,” said Remus.

“You’re going to tear your clothes jumping around like that,” said Logan, light and unconcerned.

“If I rip the ass of this monkey suit it’ll be the most interesting thing that happens today and you should be grateful,” retorted Remus.

Janus choked on a snort, and Patton – dressed as damningly low-class as he could get away with as usual, his arms bare except for a light, silky wrap that he probably wouldn’t need until the sun went down in the evening – gave Remus a fondly indulgent smile.

“I know you haven’t been to very many of these,” said Logan, “So I thought I could prepare you, if you like. Unless, of course, your intention is to behave as terribly as possible to try and avoid repeat invitations, in which case I will merely wish you luck.”

Remus had half-opened his mouth to exclaim that that was an excellent idea before the flash of his mother’s victorious grin spun across his vision for a moment.

_How very accommodating I’m being._

… Maybe not.

"Might as well,” said Remus, strained.

Logan walked him through a typical agenda for such an evening, which Remus did know, and then a list of acceptable conversation topics, which he very much didn’t. By the time the carriages pulled around and Mother and Father exited the front door with a battery of footman toting all of their luggage (the event was far enough they were going to have to stay overnight in the visgreve’s house, joy), Remus had a reasonable idea of how not to bring his parents’ wrath down on his head.

Seeing as how it seemed to boil down to “do the opposite of every instinct you have,” whether he was going to be successful remained unclear.

Mother and Father took the nicer, larger carriage, and while they gave Remus and Janus slightly suspicious looks as they followed Logan and Patton into the other, they didn’t actually say anything, and Remus relaxed.

The last thing he needed was to be alone with his parents and Janus. He had a feeling that couldn’t go any way other than catastrophically bad.

Patton dragged Janus into the seat next to him, and Remus sat next to Logan as the footman shut the door behind them. Patton tangled his feet with Logan’s and looped an arm around Janus’s before giving them all a sunny smile.

“So,” he said, “Do either of you know about road trip games?”

“No,” said Janus, and Remus shook his head.

“Oh, this’ll be so much fun!” said Patton, like they weren’t headed toward the social equivalent of a gauntlet, “Okay, what about… what about I Spy, to start?”

“I enjoy that one,” said Logan, “I believe it to be the simplest to explain, as well,”

Patton explained the rules, which were in fact pretty simple, and then they were off. Remus had a tendency to pick out roadkill, which made Patton wince and Janus pat Patton gently on the arm while clearly trying not to laugh. Patton tended toward flowers and trees, Logan landmarks and road signs, and Janus had a knack for finding the tiniest little details like finches in their nests and rabbit burrows and singularly blooming flowers.

They passed the relatively peaceful morning and early afternoon hours like that, occasionally interrupted by a particularly aggressive jostling of the carriage. Remus hated these things; it would be so much faster and less bumpy to simply take a car, but Mother considered them too dirty and ugly for nobility.

_Right_ , thought Remus, _Because horse shit is so much better._

They arrived at the Darcys’ around three, and a new set of footmen greeted them to unload. Patton tried to help and got only some horrified looks in response, which dampened his grin a little bit.

The Darceys’ butler greeted them politely, before offering to lead Mother and Father to their guest room and to send footmen to do the same for the rest of them. They split off, but not before Mother and Father gave them all one last thinly-veiled threat on arriving at the ballroom on time and presentable.

Patton once again tried to take some of his bags from the footmen following them, with no success. Logan and Patton were directed into one room, and then Janus and Remus a little further down the hall into a second.

They followed the footman in, and Remus immediately winced.

“Oh, this won’t work,” said Janus suddenly.

The footmen froze.

“Um- what is it, Mrs. Fitzroy-?”

Janus smiled, friendly and placid and not even reacting to the footman’s misgendering.

“Oh, well, we sent word ahead to Lady Darcey that my husband and I were going to require a room with two beds,” he said apologetically, “He kicks like a horse you see.”

He let out an airy, tittering noise that didn’t sound anything like his usual laugh.

“Oh, goodness, it simply must have slipped your mistress’s mind,” he continued, pressing a hand to his chest, “She must be so busy.”

He leaned in slightly.

“I would absolutely hate to embarrass her by bothering her directly,” he said conspiratorially, “Would you mind terribly helping me in avoiding it? If you can simply find us a room with two beds without mentioning it to anyone that would be wonderful.”

The footman, who was maybe nineteen, nervously glanced at the room, then back to Janus, who leaned in ever-so-slightly and put on an absolutely flawless smile and fluttered his eyelashes.

“Please? I would be so terribly grateful,”

The footman sputtered, blushing to his hairline, before nodding rapidly and hurrying out the door.

As soon as he was out of sight Janus’s expression melted from simpering to an exhausted eye roll.

“That was fucking badass,” laughed Remus, “You played that kid like a cheap kazoo,”

“Oh, please, as if it’s difficult,” scoffed Janus, “Make the average cis man feel like he’s the hero and he’ll do damn near anything you ask.”

He glanced at Remus.

“Er- no offense.”

“Hey no, I’m 100% on board the ‘cis men are idiots’ train, Jan, we think almost exclusively with our dicks.”

Janus snorted, shoving Remus lightly in the arm.

“Don’t be disgusting,” he laughed.

“’Fraid I don’t exactly have any other settings,”

Janus snorted again, before flopping inelegantly down in one of the chairs to wait for the footmen to return.

Which he did, still red, stammering out a polite request for them to follow, and they found themselves in a nearly identical room, the only difference being two slightly smaller beds instead of one large one.

“Oh, perfect!” said Janus sweetly, “Thank you so very much, you really have done me an excellent favor.”

Remus almost felt bad for the kid, who was starting to give Janus something approaching heart-eyes, and his thank you when Janus tipped him what Remus suspected was far more than standard was effusive and clearly flustered.

He left, and Janus’s face collapsed back into normalcy again. But this time he looked a little more uncomfortable than annoyed, scratching his own shoulder lightly.

“Uh… hey, Janus?” said Remus hesitantly.

“Hmm?” Janus answered.

“Are you okay?”

Janus winced a little.

“It’s…”

He trailed off, shaking his head.

“It’s nothing,” he said finally.

“No offense, but it doesn’t really look like nothing,”

Janus opened and closed his hands a few times, brow furrowed.

“… I don’t- like doing that,” he said finally, just a bit strangled, “I don’t like… the way it makes men look at me.”

He scratched his shoulder again, frown deepening.

“Like- bugs,” he muttered, “Their eyes. Crawling all over me. I hate it,”

Remus felt wildly out of his depth. Roman would be better here, or even Logan – Patton would be ideal. Remus considered going to get him for a moment, but he thought Janus might take Remus just booking it from the room the wrong way.

“Uh- if I ever look at you… crawly, you can totally deck me,” he said weakly.

Janus choked on a laugh, the discomfort smoothing out. Rolling his eyes, he gave Remus a terribly amused expression.

“Remus,” he said, half-laughing, “For most of our acquaintance you looked at me like I was going to attack you. I assure you I am hardly concerned about the possibility.”

Remus felt his face pink a little.

“Okay, fair, but you don’t have to roast me about it.”

Janus made a dismissive gesture.

“Water under the bridge,” he said, “I’ve forgiven you.”

Remus abruptly felt like someone had punched him in the stomach, but Janus didn’t seem to register the gravity of what he’d said, standing from the chair and crossing the room to his bag, fishing for his clothes.

“I’ll get dressed in the bathroom, and you can dress out here?” he said idly.

Remus couldn’t quite get his voice to work, and Janus turned back to him with a quizzical look.

“Remus?”

“… Uh- yeah,” Remus managed, “That works,”

Janus looked at him curiously for another moment, and then nodded.

“Okay,” he said, taking his clothes toward the bathroom.

The door shut behind him, and Remus stood still for a long moment.

_I’ve forgiven you,_ light and unconcerned, like Remus didn’t remember Janus half in tears and brandishing a literal knife at him, Remus had hurt him so badly.

Swallowing thickly, Remus moved to get dressed.

And if he felt that forgiveness like a little warm coal sitting comfortably in his chest the whole time, he figured that was his own damn business.

—

The ball had some kind of political angle, and Remus was certain his parents had mentioned it at some point, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember what it was.

And trying to figure it out from the conversation had proved a non-entity. Visgreve Darcey floated through the crowd and made painfully mundane small talk, and while Janus proved to be an expert at faux-tittering through the conversations in spite of the fact that everyone was being _absolutely astonishingly rude to him,_ Remus was starting to feel a bit claustrophobic and a lot homicidal.

“The next person who misgenders you I’m going to deck them,” said Remus.

“No, you aren’t,” said Janus, smiling placidly like they were having a perfectly pleasant conversation and waving politely at people passing them. “Liberty and Ariel will be terribly upset if you get blood on the clothes they worked so hard on.”

“If I get into a fistfight with someone for being a massive cock to you Libby and Ari are gonna buy me fucking flowers.”

Janus gave him an exasperated look.

“The opinions of idiotic transphobes mean less than nothing to me,” said Janus, “Besides, it’s not as if I’m unaccustomed to it. At least now I _feel_ better, in clothes that fit and here with people who aren’t going to belittle me when I retreat. Your lovely and oh-so-pleasant parents notwithstanding.”

Wincing at the reminder, Remus glanced around the crowd to see if they were nearby and came up empty. He couldn’t help but relax just a tad.

“Incoming moron, three o'clock,” muttered Janus, before breaking out a simpering smile and ducking his head at whoever just approached them.

“Hello, I don’t believe we’ve met?” he said politely, “Janus Fitzroy, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Remus still wasn’t used to Janus introducing himself as “Fitzroy” in spite of the fact that they’d been married for months, but he managed not to visibly react.

“Oh, I’m not surprised you don’t remember me!” the man said jovially, “Samuel Down, Visgreve of Trence, the pleasure is all mine. The last I saw you you had only just entered society, at a luncheon hosted by your parents,”

Janus wavered for a moment before nodding.

“Ah, yes, I do remember now,” he said, “How have you been?”

Janus and Sammy-boy continued with the idle chatter, and Remus felt a little bad that he’d been leaving all the conversation up to Janus all night, but he had the distinct feeling that anything he said was not going to help at all.

“You know,” said Samuel, “I really am so pleased that it worked out for you, Mrs. Fitzroy,”

Remus opened his mouth immediately to snap, but cut off abruptly when Janus stomped subtly on his foot.

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” he said, “Forgive my presumption, but you are quite a pretty young lady. It was so unfortunate, the discoloration marring your face, but at least your husband is of good standing.”

He turned to Remus.

“And he doesn’t seem to mind! Excellent, that it hasn’t ruined anything for you.”

Remus was expecting more of Janus’s expert fake flattery – but nothing came, and the silence stretched long enough that the visgreve’s expression began to drop, and Remus gave Janus a worried look.

Janus’s polite smile had frozen, and he was still for nearly five seconds before it brightened to something much more obviously fake, manic and brittle.

“Remus, could you hold my drink?” he said abruptly, “I must excuse myself,”

He shoved it into Remus’s hands – Remus took it on autopilot, sloshing some of the champagne on his gloves – before abruptly turning and fleeing into the crowd.

“Well, I never-” sputtered Samuel.

“Whoops,” said Remus, splashing the last of Janus’s champagne onto the asshole’s shirt, “You’d better go wash up.”

He took off in the same direction as Janus, but he seemed to have vanished. Remus resorted to just-barely-politely demanding if anyone had seen his husband through gritted teeth, and managed not to deck anyone who tried to correct it to wife.

Finally, someone had seen him, and Remus took off in the indicated direction and found himself in the smaller reception room off the ballroom, among the tables of finger foods and fancy wines.

And an entire crowd of gawking, horrified nobles, because standing in the center of the room were Patton and Janus, dancing a fucking _waltz_.

“Hello, Remus,” came a familiar voice, and Remus turned to gape at Logan, who had a fond, resigned look on his face.

“He was upset,” said Logan, “Patton thought dancing would cheer him. I believe Janus finds comfort in following Patton’s lead into behaving scandalously.”

“The Darceys might genuinely throw us out for this, you know,” said Remus.

Logan shook his head.

“Not as likely as you might think,” said Logan, face softening into something thoroughly besotted, “Patton has become… rather notorious, and I believe the other nobles find the ensuing gossip entertaining. Certainly our lives were quite boring without him.”

And the staring and frantic whispering did seem to support that. Janus’s face was still colored with something pained underneath that Remus could barely discern from this distance, but he was smiling, and Remus felt relieved that Patton had managed to stave off the worst of it.

“Can you imagine if Virgil were here?” laughed Remus.

“Having seen Virgil demonstrate ‘club’ dancing and nearly dying of embarrassment myself I suspect we would have to cart several of the guests out on stretchers after they fainted.”

Snorting, Remus turned back to Janus and Patton again.

The song ended, and Patton let go only to take Janus’s hands and kiss him on the cheek, prompting a collective, audible gasp. Releasing one hand, he led Janus over to the two of them before dropping the second and taking Logan’s instead.

“Dance with me?” he said sweetly.

Logan gave him a disgustingly sappy look.

“Of course, dearest.”

Patton led him off, and for some reason as soon as he turned Janus slumped a little.

“Janus?”

Janus jumped, before shaking himself a little and jerking his head toward the doors to the dark outdoors.

“I just need some air,” he muttered.

“Do… you want me to come with you?”

Janus’s face screwed up in an expression Remus couldn’t parse, and he shrugged.

“If you like,”

“Like” was maybe not the right word, but Janus looked a little unsteady on his feet and Remus was pretty sure he shouldn’t be alone.

Janus pushed the door to the outside, and Remus followed – no one seemed to notice them going out, too distracted by Logan and Patton’s spectacle in the middle of the room, and when the door clicked shut Janus darted immediately to the side, out of sight of the glass, and collapsed on the ground against the wall.

“Whoa, whoa _,_ Janus-!”

“I’m fine,” said Janus, voice trembling, “I’m fine, it’s fine, I just- I just need a moment-”

Cautiously, Remus sat on the stone of the balcony across from him, far enough away to try not to crowd him. Janus was shaking like an aspen and Remus made a fist in the hem of his shirt and worried it.

“What happened?” he said incredulously.

Janus laughed, and it came out slightly hysterical.

“It’s just so _much,_ ” he said, strangled, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but Patton just keeps _hugging_ me and holding my hand and dancing and it’s so- so much and I feel like I’m going to _implode,”_

“… Oh,” said Remus, “That’s normal.”

Janus gave him an incredulous look.

“I’m- I’m kinda surprised he didn’t explain it to you?” said Remus, “But- I mean, he explained it to us, so maybe he just forgot?”

Except as soon as he said it, something else occurred to him.

“You never- you never react when Patton grabs you, that I’ve seen,” he muttered, “You don’t, do you? You’re hiding it.”

Janus scowled.

“So Patton didn’t know to tell you,” Remus continued.

“Tell me _what?”_

“We’re all sick,” said Remus plainly, “Me and my brothers and you. Because hardly anyone touches anyone else and going without it makes you sick.”

“Without _touch?_ ” scoffed Janus, “You must be joking. That’s preposterous.”

“I thought so too,” said Remus, “But then Patton taught me and my brothers how to, like, hold hands and hug and cuddle and- and I feel a lot better now. A _lot_ better.”

Janus still looked dubious.

“He said it’s called ‘touch starvation,’” said Remus, shrugging, “Babies can die from it, I guess, but people our age it just makes us, uh, depressed.”

“Well, if I need it so much why is it- why does it feel like this?” said Janus incredulously.

“Uh-” said Remus, floundering, “Virgil said it’s like, um- a sensory overload thing? We’re so not used to it that even a little bit is overwhelming. We have to practice and shit. You should tell Patton it’s too much.”

Janus shifted uncomfortably.

“I- I don’t want him to _stop_ ,” he said in a small voice.

“He won’t,” said Remus, trying for gentle and landing squarely in awkward-as-fuck, “He’ll just ease up. He doesn’t hug me anymore, he knows it’s too much unless it’s Roman or Logan, for me, but he still pats my arm and stuff.”

Janus looked considering.

“… Okay.” he said finally, “I’ll tell him. It- it really is a lot, I keep thinking I’m going to faint on him.”

“That would be a first, but Roman’s knees gave out on Virgil one time.”

Janus snorted, leaning his head back against the stone.

“I can’t believe this,” he laughed, “I mean, I know everyone’s delightfully repressed but the fact that it apparently has actual _health_ ramifications?”

“Yeah,” snorted Remus, “It is kinda funny in a super depressing way.”

“And you said- babies can _die?_ ” said Janus, sounding morbidly curious.

“Mhm,” said Remus, “Apparently there’s like, whole program things with baby orphans where people volunteer to come in just to hug them for hours so they don’t get sick.”

Janus didn’t say anything for a long minute.

“I think my father used to pick me up,” he said suddenly, “But- it’s one of those memories so old I’m not sure if I made it up or not.”

“Not me,” said Remus, “Or if anyone did, I don’t remember it. Logan was too small, and he’s- I’m pretty sure he’s the only person who might have wanted to.”

They fell silent again. Janus gradually stopped trembling, and Remus listened to the faint strains of music and wondered what sort of scene Patton and Logan were causing inside.

Abruptly, Janus laughed.

“What?” said Remus.

Janus shook his head, giving Remus a wan smile.

“I hope you don’t take offense to this,” he said dryly, “But really, this conversation is just- well, we sound rather incredibly pathetic, don’t you think?”

Remus snorted, and Janus’s smile widened.

“Totally pathetic,” agreed Remus.

“Downright piteous.”

“Absolute sad sacks, the both of us.”

Janus dissolved into a fit of snorting laughter again, and Remus grinned.

They stayed on the balcony, mostly in silence but occasionally broken up by one of them making some smarmy comment, until Remus startled when the lights in the reception room began to dim. Leaning to the side, he realized it was empty, and a maid was putting out the oil lamps one by one.

“Looks like we missed the party.”

“Oh no, what a tragedy,” deadpanned Janus.

Laughing, Remus rolled to his feet and offered Janus a hand up. He saw Janus hesitate for a fraction of a moment, and he almost took his hand back, but then Janus grabbed it and together they hauled Janus to his feet.

The maid looked absolutely scandalized when they came in from the balcony, but Janus just gave her a cheery wave as they passed through the reception room and then the empty, sad-looking ballroom and made their way toward their guest room.

Remus changed in the bathroom this time – wearing actual nightclothes tonight, which was sure to be slightly uncomfortable but he certainly wasn’t sleeping naked in a room with Janus – and knocked before coming out. Janus called an all clear, and when Remus came out he was already curled under the covers in his own bed.

Remus hadn’t shared a room with anyone since the nursery with his brothers. He laid awake for a while, the awareness of Janus a little unsettling even on the other side of the room.

And then Remus heard a small whistle. It wasn’t quite a snore, but a little audible snooze noise, and Remus tried not to snicker and risk waking him.

It made Remus think of tea kettles, and as he made a note to poke fun about the noise in the morning, he was asleep before he even noticed.

—

Patton was uncharacteristically groggy and quiet the next morning. He didn’t even make the effort to take his bags from the footmen, and mostly just huddled under Logan’s arm as their things were loaded into the carriage and then as they followed.

Within ten minutes of the carriage moving Patton’s head had lolled, limp, and fallen onto Janus’s shoulder.

Janus gave Logan an incredulous look, and Logan just shifted forward.

“Patton has trouble sleeping in strange places,” he said quietly, “And isn’t a morning person besides. Here, I will trade seats with you. He clings.”

Somehow they managed to trade places with only minor jostling of each other and a few disgruntled noises from Patton. Logan leaned to the side and gathered Patton against his chest, pressing his lips to Patton’s forehead, before closing his own eyes serenely. Remus looked over at Janus, who was giving them an amused look. Janus looked back, and Remus rolled his eyes in an over-exaggerated way. Janus bit the inside of his cheek and looked reprimanding.

Which as far as Remus was concerned, was a flat-out challenge.

He settled in to wait, and Janus leaned his head on his hand to look out the window. Slowly, Remus moved his hand over and then jabbed Janus in the side.

Janus startled so much his head nearly hit the ceiling, turning to Remus with a shocked expression. Remus looked as innocent as possible and held up his hands in a "what?” motion.

Janus’s eyes narrowed, and Remus managed to keep a straight face. Huffing, Janus turned back to the window.

Remus waited a few minutes, and did it again.

Janus managed to smack his hand, which made Logan open one eye.

“Children,” he deadpanned quietly.

Janus’s offended expression was worth more than gold, and he turned to scowl at Remus, who was only just barely managing not to grin.

Logan closed his eyes, and before Remus could start up the next round, Janus reached over and pinched his knee sharply.

Remus’s face split into a grin, and Janus visibly bit the inside of his cheek, obviously trying not to laugh and encourage him. Remus jabbed him again, and Janus immediately retaliated with a pinch to Remus’s arm, and then they were off.

The trades picks and pokes and the occasional light kick to each other’s shins, both of them freezing every time Logan opened his eyes to give them exasperated expression.

Remus managed to catch Janus’s leaning forward, poking him firmly between the ribs on his back, and Janus made a strangled squeak and went rigid.

Grinning, Remus went for the same spot, but Janus reared back suddenly, plastering himself to the side of the carriage away from Remus.

Remus froze, holding his hands up non-threateningly.

'Too much?“ he mouthed.

Janus hesitated for a moment, before nodding slowly. Remus folded his hands in his lap immediately, and Janus relaxed.

They were still for nearly half an hour, before Remus saw Janus in the corner of his eyes, reaching out cautiously to gently poke Remus in the side of the knee.

Remus reached out and poked him just as gently, and Janus gave him a small smile. They started up again, a little calmer this time, and the time seemed to fly by even in silence, until finally it was afternoon and they pulled up in front of the manor.

Logan gently shook Patton awake, who somehow looked even more disoriented than he had before.

Remus wasn’t surprised Roman and Virgil weren’t waiting – they reasonably went out of their way to avoid Mother and Father whenever possible – and was even less surprised to find Roman at the door of Remus and Janus’s quarters. Virgil must have gone for Logan and Patton.

Roman launched at Remus immediately, and Remus squeezed him back gratefully.

Janus insisted the footmen just drop their bags inside the door before none-too-gently shooing them out of the sitting room and then throwing himself on the good chair with a groan.

"That bad, huh?” said Roman sympathetically.

“Unbearably so,” said Janus acidly “Thirty-six hours surrounded by absolute idiots. Present company and brother-in-laws excluded.”

“I dunno if I can be excluded from idiots,” joked Remus.

Roman scowled, and Janus looked up at him from his position draped dramatically over the chair like Remus had grown a second head.

“You’re not an idiot,” said Roman sharply.

“Surely you must be joking?” said Janus incredulously, “You have more brain cells than that entire ballroom’s worth of sycophantic transphobes combined.”

Roman winced, probably in sympathy for Janus, and Remus shrugged.

“I think 'not a transphobe’ is a pretty low bar for intelligence, Jan,”

“You’d be surprised,” deadpanned Janus.

He grinned over at Remus.

“Besides, you’ve made something of a hobby of passing my low bars at this point, haven’t you?”

“Hey,” said Roman, frowning, the same moment Remus burst into laughter.

Roman was now looking at both of them like they’d lost it, Remus giggling and Janus smiling over at them both.

“… You two are weird,” said Roman eventually, shaking his head.

“Oh, well spotted, Roman,” said Janus dryly. Roman just rolled his eyes.

“Well,” he sighed, “I’m sorry you had such a terrible time. I hope it wasn’t as bad as it could have been.”

“… Well,” said Janus hesitantly, “I suppose-”

He glanced over at Remus and gave him a cautious smile.

“I suppose it wasn’t a total loss…?” he said hesitantly.

Remus smiled back, shrugging.

“Nah,” he said, “Definitely could’ve been worse. A couple fun bits even – you know Patton and Janus _waltzed_ in front of everyone?”

Roman gasped out loud.

“You did _not!”_ he exclaimed.

“Oh, we did, in fact,” laughed Janus, “You should have seen everyone’s faces, I think Lady Bailey was considering fleeing the room in horror.”

“Oh, we _have_ to go dancing,” said Roman, scooting down the couch toward Janus, “If you think _waltzing_ is insane wait until you see the jitterbug, they pick each other _up,_ and Virgil and I have been practicing-”

Roman drew Janus into conversation and Remus just relaxed against the arm of the couch and kicked off his shoes so he could tuck his feet under Roman’s thigh and settle in to listen.

To his brother, and his friend. And wasn’t that something wonderful?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mental/Emotional parental abuse, transphobia, misgendering both unintentional (Roman uses he/they pronouns but is not out to Remus, who continues to use only he/him), and deliberate (some of which is malicious from antagonists, and some of which is non-malicious and comes from protagonists), discussion of touch starvation and child death,


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A non-birthday, an overdue conversation, and something risky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to @trivia-goddess on tumblr for beta-reading these deeply, deeply repressed boys
> 
> See the end notes for detailed tws

“Psst. _Psst_ , Remus!”

Stopping in the middle of the hallway. Remus took a moment to wonder if the quiet voice was his imagination.

_“Remus!”_

Turning slowly, Remus looked around him, searching, and found a frantically gesturing hand waving from behind a door.

When he came over, he was only slightly surprised to find Candy hiding behind said door – slightly, because she really wasn’t supposed to be upstairs as a kitchen maid, but also Candy was rapidly getting a little too brave in her behavior because of her friendship with Janus. Remus had a feeling it wasn’t going to end well for any of them.

“You’re not supposed to be up here, Candy-Cane,” he deadpanned.

“It’s fine, I know Leona’s serving the Lady and her husband tea in their wing right now,” said Candy, waving her hand, “But this couldn’t wait, c'mon, c'mon,”

“Come _where?_ ” said Remus incredulously, but Candy just grabbed him by the sleeve and yanked before letting go and quickly leading him down the hall.

He followed her to the north wing, which was technically the “family” rooms and therefore never got used, because Remus and his brothers would hardly risk the chance of accidentally running into their parents, and therefore usually stayed in their own wing.

He felt a little pang as they passed the nursery, the room he and his brothers had shared and been cared for by Nanny Dunkeld, which was probably the last time Remus could remember being purely happy. He wondered if she even thought about them, or if they were just a set of spoiled rich brats she’d been happy to get rid of when her job was up.

Candy led him past the family rooms, and then into a skinny door Remus had assumed was a closet but turned out to hold… a rickety staircase?

“Shh,” said Candy, pressing her finger to her lips.

Remus was now curious enough to easily oblige her, and they crept as quietly as possible down the steps. Candy peaked her head out around the walls, looking both ways before frantically gesturing for him to follow down a dark, narrow hall.

Remus didn’t even know where they were. The staircase, the hall, the fact that there was _another floor_ down here, along what Remus had thought only included the wine cellar – it was all completely unfamiliar, made worse by the fact that the wood was dark and rough and the hallway poorly lit as Candy led him passed rows and rows of identical doors.

“In here!” she hissed, throwing one open and pulling him inside.

She quickly shut the door behind him before making a loud “aha!” noise of triumph.

Remus was facing the room, so he got to see the two gaping faces who were already inside, two girls – also in the medium-sized room were three beds and a little kitchenette with three stools crammed up against one of the counters.

“Uh… hi?”

“You brought him _down here?_ ” hissed the taller girl.

“It’s just Mr. Remus, Tara,” said Candy, “He’s cool, remember?”

“And if Mrs. Butcher finds him down here in our _room_ all three of us will be _fired_ for impropriety, Candy, you numbskull!” said Tara.

“He’s not gonna be here _long_ ,” insisted Candy, “I just needed to get the birthday present.”

“Wait, what?” said Remus, suddenly uncomfortable. “I don’t want a birthday present from you, Candy.”

Which came out _way_ more rude than Remus meant it, but- Candy was a servant, and Remus was definitely uncomfortable with the idea of her giving him anything she’d bought with her own money. And his birthday wasn’t for almost a month anyway, in mid-June.

“It’s not for you,” said Candy, “It’s for Janus, and all we have is a terrible icebox because the Lady is morally opposed to refrigerators, and these melt _really_ quick so I had to find someone _right_ _away_ or it’ll be ruined.”

“If you’d just brought Janus down here, Butcher wouldn’t care because she’s a transphobe,” said Tara.

“But I couldn’t _find_ Janus – Remus can just take it to their room, they have a little icebox in their sitting-room bar that’s probably loads better than ours.”

“Wait,” said Remus, his brain catching up with some pieces of the conversation, “This is- this is your room?”

“… Yes?” said the other girl cautiously.

“All three of you?” said Remus, something uncomfortable twisting in his stomach.

“I mean, yeah?” she repeated.

This room was half the size of Remus and Janus’s sitting-room – and crammed crowded with three beds and what apparently constituted their whole kitchen. Candy was fishing in around in the icebox, and she was close enough the bed the third girl was sitting on for her to reach out and touch.

He couldn’t think of anything to say, and the girls didn’t seem to know how to respond.

“Well,” said the third girl, “If you’re gonna be down here we might as well get introduced. I’m Sally, I’m the hall girl,”

“And that’s Tara, she’s my sister and also a kitchen maid,” said Candy, “She’s a lot higher up than me though.”

“I’m- Remus,” he said, and then immediately felt ridiculous because they all obviously knew that, “What’s a hall girl?“

"Absolute bottom of ladder,” she laughed, “I’m the one who waits on the senior servants when they take their meals.”

“So that’s – Butcher, and-?”

“Yeah, Mrs. Butcher, Mr. Stern, and Mrs. Strickland,” she continued, “And it’s a nightmare, don’t get me started. But at least I don’t have to wait on the _Lady_ ,”

She flushed.

“Uh, no offense, sir,”

“None taken,” said Remus the same moment Candy scoffed “He’s _cool_ , Sal, I told you,”

Candy retrieved the boxed treat and handed it to Remus.

“This is for Janus,” she said, “It’s from all three of us, he said he’d never had them. Don’t eat it! He can share it if he wants but only if he says you can,”

“I don’t- Candy,” said Remus, frustrated, “It’s not Janus’s birthday,”

“I know!” she said, “He didn’t tell me until after, so it’s late, but I told him I’d get him a present and he couldn’t stop me.”

“I mean Janus’s birthday was _months_ ago.”

Remus distinctly remembered that Janus’s birthday had passed while they were engaged, in February, and that Mother had made a _strong_ _suggestion_ that Remus send him a gift which Remus had ignored.

The girls exchanged looks.

“… No,” said Tara cautiously, “He definitely said it was May first. I heard him talking to Candy,”

Had Mother gotten Janus’s birthday wrong? That seemed unlike her. And if not, why would Janus tell Candy a different one?

“Uh, okay, I guess,” he said, baffled. “I guess I’ll… take this up.”

“Yeah,” said Sally, “Now you have to get him _back_ upstairs Candy. Didn’t think of that, did you?”

Candy stuck her tongue out petulantly, crossing the room and peeking her head out the door, only to immediately wince.

“… Um. Maybe put the dots back in the icebox for a minute,” she said sheepishly, “Rachel and Naomi are in the hall.”

Sally applauded sarcastically and Candy stuck her tongue out again. Remus obediently gave her the box and she returned it, before pulling out one of the stools and gesturing for him to sit.

Sitting – the stool was very uncomfortable and much too short for him – Remus folded his hands awkwardly and they all just- stared for a moment.

“I thought you’d be a lot more chatty,” said Sally bluntly, “Janus says you’re funny,”

But Remus was incredibly, uncomfortably aware of his status at that moment. He mostly had the run of the manor, had a bedroom and sitting-room both twice, maybe thrice the size of this one, one of which he shared with no one. And his mere presence might be enough to get all three of the girls fired.

Remus had no idea how Janus was able to be friends with the servants – Remus felt so wildly out of place in this room it was slightly nauseating.

“Do you think it’s weird that the word stool can mean chair or shit?” he blurted, because it was the first thing he thought of.

Tara and Candy wrinkled their noses and Sally sputtered with laughter.

“Okay,” said Sally, “I dunno if that was funny, but socially awkward is close enough. Got any gossip? I can trade,”

“Like what?” said Remus.

“Oh you know,” said Sally, waving her hand, “If any of the ‘so-proper’ nobles are having affairs, causing scandals, which of the royal families is scheming to be the next monarch. That kind of thing,”

“I don’t know if you noticed,” said Remus sarcastically, “But me and my brothers _are_ pretty much the biggest grist in the gossip mill right now.”

“… Fair,” said Sally, “I’ll tell you mine anyway,”

“You’re not that special,” said Candy, “Sally loves to gossip,”

“You’d be shocked what the senior servants say in front of me,” said Sally, “It’s like they think just because I don’t talk to them I can’t hear either.”

“Do share,” said Remus, intrigued.

“Well there’s the typical bullshit you’d expect,” said Sally, “Talking shit about the six of you, you and your brothers and your husbands, mostly, and the servants they don’t like. Arguing about whether they should have to call Janus the right pronouns and name to his face, which is just insanely awful,”

Remus winced.

“They want to hire a companion for Janus, because they think being around a girl will, who knows, make him more girly, I guess?” she continued, “But they can’t unless the Lady tells them to, so it’s just them talking about it right now. And apparently they think the Lady’s going to get you your own valet.”

Which was _not good_ – Logan had a valet, a guy a little older than him named Philip, but Roman and Remus had never been considered important enough to have them. It was just another tick mark in the dreaded list of reasons they might be about to replace Logan with Remus.

“And at this point it’s just a matter of everyone decent trying to hide so we don’t get fired,” Tara cut in, “Cook’s certainly not happy with anyone who calls him Janus in front of her, and Leona’s been trying to rearrange the maid roster so the nasty ones aren’t dealing with any of you without Strickland noticing, so she has to do it slowly,”

Something occurred to him, and Remus furrowed his brow in thought.

“… Hey,” he said, “Do you think you could make me a list?”

“A list of what?” said Sally.

“A list of servants who – who are okay to talk in front of. Who doesn’t misgender Janus, that kind of thing. People we don’t have to worry about telling Mother or Father or the housekeeper about anything we say.”

Sally’s face split into a grin.

“I would be absolutely _delighted_ to do that, let me find a pencil and paper.”

Half an hour later, Remus was smuggled out of the servant’s quarters with a box of “Dipping Dots" and a very useful piece of paper. Candy didn’t follow him all the way upstairs, which Remus was actually a little disappointed about, since Janus was already in their rooms when he showed up and she hadn’t been able to see the way his face lit up at both the box and the list.

Remus considered asking about the birthday thing, but they got thoroughly distracted with the list of servants, and, well – Remus figured Janus was allowed to keep a secret.

—

Remus and Virgil’s relationship was… weird.

On the one hand, they were the two most likely to cause problems on purpose for Remus’s parents - or at least they had been, before Remus had been put in the nightmare scenario of having another person who would be directly, massively screwed if he fucked up, which had sort of put a pin in that particular hobby.

On the other, Virgil didn’t really seek him out to hang out, and he found a lot of Remus’s grosser or more gruesome analogies pretty distressing most of the time. Remus tried to tone it down, a little, but it wasn’t like he went around thinking “wow, I should make Virgil uncomfortable on purpose” - he mostly just said whatever he was thinking at the moment without always thinking through first, and Remus’s thoughts just tended toward the macabre.

Even so, Remus didn’t get the sense that Virgil hated his guts or anything, but he definitely wasn’t expecting Virgil to ask him to hang out one on one or anything.

So, of course, that’s what happened.

“Can I talk to you?”

Which was a sentence that never ended well for Remus, but Virgil looked sort of nauseous and super nervous when he asked, so hopefully Remus wasn’t exactly in trouble?

“Uh, sure Sigh-Emo-More,” said Remus, who had until that moment been leaving a mess on purpose because one of the Team Asshole maids was cleaning this room and it was the only way Remus could really get away with retaliating without Mother finding out.

Virgil wrinkled his nose, looking around the thoroughly trashed room.

“Maybe somewhere else?” he said.

“Lead the way, Stretch,” said Remus, gesturing toward the door.

Virgil was by far the least proficient at navigating the manor, even after being married to Roman for almost a year, but he only took one wrong turn and looked slightly sheepish when Remus grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him in the other direction.

They didn’t go to the garden, but instead the front balcony, where they sat on one of the benches in the sun – it was still cool enough for mid-may to do so without getting overheated – and Virgil cleared his throat.

“So,” he said awkwardly, “I, uh…”

He trailed off, his face screwing up with some kind of frustration.

“I’ve been kinda shitty to you,” he said, slightly strangled.

Remus startled.

“Uh… you have?” said Remus incredulously.

Virgil gave him a baffled look.

“About- about your soulmarks. You and Janus.”

“Oh,” said Remus, “Honestly Virgil, that was months ago and I’d kinda forgotten about it until you said it just now,”

Virgil groaned.

“That’s _worse_ ,” he hissed, “I was a massive dick about it Remus, you should be pissed at me,”

“I was also kind of being an asshole,” said Remus, he thought reasonably, “I mean – Jan was so upset he literally pulled a knife on me, I’m not exactly guiltless,”

“But I- wait, a _knife?_ ”

“Well, It was a letter opener,” Remus corrected himself.

Virgil stared for a moment before shaking himself.

“That’s not- Okay, my point, is that I didn’t exactly- I didn’t exactly _stop_ thinking those things this whole time, until- Roman called me out on it and sort of- put it in perspective and I realized I was being a huge shitheel-”

“Virgil,” said Remus, cutting him off, “I get that you think we’re having a heart-to-heart here, but I honestly don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me right now.”

Virgil blew out a frustrated breath.

"My whole life,” he said abruptly, “My parents- they’ve talked about soulmates, and how they’re the best thing that ever happens to you – the one person on the whole planet who’s your most perfect, most ideal match. It- it never occurred to me a soulmate could be anything else,”

Remus couldn’t help but visibly wince, and Virgil flinched right back.

“And I don’t get- you and Janus,” Virgil continued, “But just because I don’t get it doesn’t mean I get to be a piece of shit about it. So I’m sorry,”

Remus waited, but that seemed to be all he had to say.

“Okay,” said Remus, “I forgive you.”

“… Just like that?” said Virgil quietly.

Remus shrugged.

“It was a pretty thorough apology,” said Remus, “And I reserve most of my grudge capacity for my parents,”

Virgil snorted.

They sat in the sun for a minute in silence, before Virgil spoke again, hesitant.

“Can I ask you something?” said Virgil.

“Sure,”

“It’s personal,” Virgil warned.

“I ask you inappropriate questions all the time Virgil,”

“Does it… bother you, that you and Janus’s soulbond is- broken, I guess, or doesn’t work?”

Remus considered it.

“It’s just-” said Virgil, “I think about Roman, and- I can’t imagine not having him, even after less than a year. I don’t think I could handle it.”

“Well, you’re not aromantic,” said Remus faintly.

Virgil winced again.

“No, I guess not,”

“But-” said Remus.

He trailed off, trying to think of a way to phrase it.

“It bothered me when I thought it bothered him,” he said finally, “I felt super guilty? But now…”

The words were there, but Remus was having trouble putting them in an order that made sense.

“Why are we friends?” said Remus abruptly.

Virgil seemed startled by the non-sequitur.

“Uh- you’re pretty funny? Even when you’re freaking me out, it’s always a halfway decent joke.”

"That’s not why,” said Remus.

“… It’s not?”

“We’re friends because you’re my brother’s soulmate.”

Virgil opened his mouth, looking affronted, but Remus held up his hand.

“I don’t mean you’re pretending to like me,” he said, “I mean you wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for Roman. We never would have met. It’s the same for Patton.”

Virgil’s mouth closed, unable to retort.

“Janus- he’s not anyone’s soulmate,” said Remus, “Not even mine. He’s stuck here because we’re married, yeah, but after that shit-show right at the start? Janus doesn’t have to give me the time of day. Not any one of you would have blamed him if he told me to fuck off and never talk to him again.”

“But,” he continued, “He didn’t. He said he’d be my friend. And he is, now, though we’re not exactly- great at it yet. He’s my friend, even though he doesn’t have to be. No obligations,”

He fiddled with the knee of his pants.

“And that’s- that’s so much better,” he said, voice cracking a little, “I’d rather have a friend who picked _me_ than a soulmate the universe picked _for_ me any day. It’s better than a soulmate could ever be, for me.”

They fell quiet again, and after a moment Virgil nodded.

"You know,” he said, “I think that does actually make sense to me.”

He elbowed Remus in the arm.

“And I think- I think you do deserve a lot more friends. I’m glad Janus can be that, for you. And I’m glad it doesn’t bother you anymore, because it shouldn’t - there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“Yeah?” said Remus, voice wobbling.

“ _Nothing_ ,” said Virgil, “And I’m sorry it took me so long to get my head out of my ass and see that,”

“I mean, it’s a big head,” laughed Remus, “Not surprised it was stuck.”

Virgil sputtered a laugh, elbowing him again, which devolved into an elbow contest that left them both in stitches.

Remus had meant it – it was true that Virgil was only here because of Roman.

But Remus did like to imagine that if they’d met first, Virgil might still have decided to be his friend.

—

Janus and Remus started taking walks in the garden more often. It was starting to edge from spring to summer, and Remus still felt just slightly weird about their shared quarters – _their_ sitting room, _their_ couch, _their_ chairs, all these things and spaces they’d been forced into sharing.

But the garden was more neutral. And today, Remus had finally worked up the nerve to ask Janus if he wanted to walk through the woods, and had been pleasantly surprised when Janus had perked up immediately and gone to locate a better pair of boots.

The woods were mostly for show. Technically, there was a herd of deer in here somewhere that the gamemaster managed, and that Father very occasionally hosted hunts with his many stuffy friends to kill for sport, fun, and profit, but not actually that often. Remus got the feeling his father was actually a lot more squeamish than he let on, and hunts were a bit of a rarity.

Janus was slightly fidgety as they walked, but Remus didn’t get the feeling he was scared. At some point, Janus had pulled off one of his gloves and started gently touching the trees as they passed them.

"We didn’t have a forest on our land,” said Janus after a few minutes of silence, “It was all horse pasture. Mother thinks they’re ‘regal,’”

“Oh, boy, horse shit,” deadpanned Remus, “How incredibly fancy,”

Janus snorted, looking around them, before pausing and then stepping off the path.

“Hey, careful,” said Remus, “There’s ditches and shit everywhere.”

“Shh,” said Janus quietly.

Remus frowned. Janus had never told him to shut up before, but he didn’t seem upset. He crept through the underbrush, and then suddenly reached out and snapped his hands together with a victorious noise.

“What did you catch?” said Remus, frown smoothing out.

Janus brought it over, hands closed like a clam-shell, standing before Remus with a grin and opening his hands just enough to let some light in for Remus to see.

“Nice,” said Remus, “A lady beetle,”

“You know if a ladybug lands on you you get a wish,” said Janus.

“What, really?”

“No, of course not,” scoffed Janus, “But it’s a fun little story,”

He let the ladybug crawl over the hill and valleys of his bare palm, then onto the other, gloved hand, the pinkish-red stark against the pale yellow.

“You know,” said Janus lightly, “I think it might be fun to bring it inside. We could put it in a jar, I’m sure I could get one from Candace.”

Icy dread flooded every vein in Remus’s body at once, like someone had opened a floodgate of panic. Remus grabbed Janus’s hand, barely registering Janus’s startled noise, picked the ladybug gingerly out off his palm and crouched swiftly to set it on a branch.

“Well,” said Janus, clearly irritated, “If you didn’t want me to bring it inside you could have simply _said_ _so_.”

Remus let out a shuddering breath, unable to keep himself from starting to rock and wrapping his arms tightly around his ribs with a wounded noise.

“… Remus?” said Janus.

Remus couldn’t answer – his throat was clogging, and he could only remember the tiny little _squish_ noise that had sounded so loud, going back to his room and wailing into his pillow for hours, knowing that if he had just left the poor thing outside it wouldn’t have died so horribly.

“Remus!” Janus repeated, panic coloring his voice as he crouched next to Remus in the twigs and the fallen leaves, “Remus? Remus, what on earth is the matter, what’s wrong?”

Remus clenched on hand into a fist, grounding himself with the feeling of his nails digging into his palm. He breathed deep and even, like Virgil had taught him, for what like an immeasurable moment before flopping onto his ass in the dirt, trembling.

“… Remus?” said Janus cautiously.

“Yeah,” he croaked, “Yeah, I’m- good now.”

“You most certainly are _not_ ,” said Janus incredulously, “What just happened? I didn’t- I didn’t mean to upset you, I’m sorry-”

“It’s not you,” said Remus, ragged, “It’s not- we just- no bugs. Alive bugs. For pets.”

“Okay,” said Janus, “I won’t. I didn’t mean to frighten you,”

Remus let out a slightly hysterical laugh.

“It’s not that.”

Janus’s mouth pinched in a worried frown.

“… I did.” Remus said after a long moment, “Have one. One time.”

Slowly, Janus shifted until he was seated more comfortably in the dirt. He gestured for Remus to go on.

“I was like… ten, I think. Maid found it.” Remus continued, voice tight, “Told Mother. She killed it in front of me.”

Janus breathed in sharply through his nose. He didn’t speak for a long moment.

“That’s awful, and cruel,” he said bluntly, “I’m sorry that happened to you. And I think your mother deserves to be kicked in the teeth.”

Remus let out a short, unhappy laugh, shrugging.

Janus shed his other glove, before he picked a twig of the ground and carefully began to peel tiny strips off of it.

“I’m afraid of horses,” he said abruptly.

Remus’s brow furrowed at the non-sequitur.

“Petrified,” he continued, “They are- entirely too large, and they panic at the slightest things, and when two thousand pounds of barely-tame animal panics the best thing to be is far, far away, in my opinion.”

Remus laughed a little.

“But- the barn,” Janus continued, “The barn was- there was this cat.”

“She was a skinny, grumpy thing,” he continued, “Meant to catch mice. It took… months, of bringing her little treats of fish and steak and chicken and saucers of milk for her to let me close enough to pet her.”

Remus was slowly unfolding from his tense knot of limbs.

“But she got old,” said Janus, quieter, “And she was no good to catch mice anymore. I begged my parents to let me bring her inside, to keep her as a pet, but they said she was just a stray and wouldn’t let me. Ja- one of the stablehands took her home, and I never saw her again.”

He smiled bitterly.

“After,” he said, “My parents kept buying me these- terribly squashed-faced purebred show-cats. But I didn’t want them- I wanted _my_ cat. Mangy, grumpy stray that she was.”

He fell silent, and Remus watched him – his pinched expression, the downward curve of his mouth, the faint glaze in his eyes.

“Why’d you tell me that?” he croaked.

Janus smiled that pained smile again.

“You told me something that hurt you,” he said, “It seemed… unfair. To know it, when you didn’t have the same- leverage.”

“Is that how you think about being friends?” said Remus, something uncomfortable twisting in his stomach, “Having equal amounts of leverage?”

Janus furrowed his brow.

“… Isn’t it?”

“No, Jan,” said Remus, “It’s more like… knowing they’re not gonna use leverage even if they’ve got it,”

“That seems terribly risky,” said Janus, still peeling apart his twig.

“Yeah,” said Remus, “I guess it is.”

They were quiet for another long minute.

“I’m not,” said Remus.

Janus cocked his head.

“Gonna use the leverage,” Remus explained.

Janus’s mouth quirked up, just barely.

“Me neither,” he said quietly.

“Risky,” said Remus, smiling wanly.

Janus laughed.

“Yes,” he said, “I suppose it is.”

—

Remus was sitting on his bed, thinking.

He didn’t often devote time exclusively to thinking, being much more of a “jump first, look second” person but – this. This was important.

This was something he’d never actually told anyone other than his brothers – Patton and Virgil knew, but it hadn’t been Remus who’d told them. He’d never even _wanted_ to tell anyone, the memory of the caterpillar a constant, heavy weight around his neck.

But Janus- Janus was his friend. His first no-obligations friend in the world, and he’d listened to the caterpillar story and shared his own and he hadn’t flinched at any of the bugs or dead things they’d seen when they walked in the garden or the woods when Remus pointed them out. Remus was pretty sure he could trust him.

So why was it so _hard?_

Remus’s mind was spinning with the worst-case scenarios – Janus knocking the case over and shattering it in disgust, demanding Remus remove the animal parts from their shared quarters, turning him in to Mother.

All of which was ridiculous. Probably.

But there was a chance – honestly, a much greater chance – that Janus would like it.

And Remus really, really wanted to show his collection to someone who would actually _like_ it.

Before he could lose his nerve, he jumped up from his bed and power walked out of his room, crossing the sitting-room to knock on Janus’s door.

“Come in,” Janus called.

Remus opened the door, poking his head in. Janus’s room was just as meticulously neat as ever, and as always Remus’s eyes were drawn to the ghostly form of the sheet draped over his vanity mirror.

Remus wondered if Janus ever took it off. He found he kind of really dreaded the answer.

“Could you come here?” he said, voice coming out a little strangled.

Janus looked up from his place in his armchair, furrowing his brow curious.

“Sure,” he said cautiously, standing and following as Remus led him back towards his own room.

He led Janus inside just in time to remember that though _he’d_ been in _Janus’s_ , Janus had never actually been in his, and it was just a little bit weird. Janus looked around the room – thrashed, compared to his - and only made an amused little eyebrow raise.

Remus led him to the closet. Then to the back, the chest of drawers that held his folded clothes, opening the bottom one.

“Um, Remus?” said Janus, confused.

“Just- one sec,” muttered Remus.

He removed the folded pants, setting them to the side. When it was empty, he reached in and removed the false bottom of the drawer, and then the two wood and glass display cases of pinned insects inside, as well as the loose animal bones, skulls mostly, and the polished vertebrae and tiny hands and arms strung together with wire.

He set them one by one behind him, lined up, before turning and facing Janus but not actually looking at him, instead down at the collection and trying not to completely freak out.

At the edge of his gaze, he saw Janus slowly bend down and kneel opposite him.

“Can I touch them?” said Janus, voice trembling.

Gaze snapping up, Remus looked at Janus’s face and found his eyes widened and absolutely stunned, his hand half-extended toward Remus’s collection.

“Uh- yeah,” said Remus thickly.

Quickly pulling off one glove, Janus reached out with his now-bare hand to gingerly run his finger along one of the frog skulls.

“It’s so smooth,” he said, voice awed.

“I polish them,” said Remus.

“They’re _beautiful_ ,” breathed Janus.

“… Yeah?”

_“Yes!”_ exclaimed Janus, “I- wait, wait, hold on-”

He launched up, startling Remus, and before he could say anything else Janus bolted from the room.

“Uuuuuh,”

Remus heard Janus run through their quarters, uncharacteristically clumsy and loud, moving away into his own room until the noise was faint and then back.

Bursting into the closet, Janus looked unusually disheveled, hair flying away slightly, and something small clutched in his hands.

Janus held the object out, opening it- a book, Remus realized, and Remus took it from his hands on autopilot.

The pages of the book were piecemeal, mismatched and glued together, and the binding looked equally homemade, string sewn in a spiral around the papers.

And the pages, with their patched colors, were covered in drawings.

Some of them typical sketch subjects, as Remus flipped through the pages – Patton featured heavily, both posed and messier candids, and a handful of the others and a couple of Remus himself.

But the other drawings – insects mid-flight, but also mid-attacking each other, a ladybug chewing on an aphid or a praying mantis eating another. There were messier sketches of a cat, which Remus thought might be from memory, hunting mice and squirrels and other small creatures, and quite a few of snakes swallowing things whole.

Remus looked up at him, gaping.

“My parents got me art tutors,” said Janus, grinning, “But- as soon as they realized I was drawing ‘inappropriate topics’ they took everything away, and I had to learn how to make my own, or just- steal them. Some of these pages-”

He pointed to one of them, with a pattern of plain music staffs

“- I actually stole them from the music room.”

“Jan, this is-”

“Can I draw some of your things?” blurted Janus, looking more enthusiastic than Remus was pretty sure he’d ever seen him, “It’s just- they’re so polished, and I already know I would enjoy trying to get the shine right, but it’s fine if you’d rather not have a record of them since you obviously keep them very well hidden-”

“Yeah!” said Remus nodding furiously, “Yeah, yes, and- and I’m sure we can get you better paper and pencils, I’m sure Virgil knows a shop?”

“Really?” said Janus, eyes shining, “You don’t think- well, I don’t know that your parents would have any more approval-”

“They don’t pay any attention to what I buy anymore,” said Remus, “Not since we got married, anyway, and I’m pretty sure neither of them noticed what you put into the sitting-room either.”

“Well, the sitting-room isn’t exactly opulent-”

“And neither is paper and pencils, even nice ones.” laughed Remus, “You can get them. I’m _sure_ you can get them, hell if I mention it in front of Patton or Virgil I’m sure they’ll get it done themselves before we can even _get_ in town.”

Janus looked like he was about to start _vibrating_ he was so excited, and Remus couldn’t help but beam back.

Backs against the wall, they stayed in Remus’s closet for the rest of the afternoon, Janus carefully stretching the lines of the skulls over his stolen paper and contraband pencils, and Remus couldn’t imagine it could have gone any better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> classism, references to transphobia/misgendering, aphobia from protagonists (which is genuinely regretted and apologized for), references to past animal abuse/death (Remus’s caterpillar), parental emotional neglect/abuse, non-malicious/unintentional misgendering (Roman uses he/they pronouns but is not out to Remus, who continues to use only he/him, and Virgil, who does know, uses only he/him to avoid outing them), Remus describes himself as aromantic in spite of being gray-romantic because he doesn’t currently know he is


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One step forward, two steps back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to @trivia-goddess for being the first person i subjected to this :)
> 
> more detailed trigger warnings in the end notes

June arrived, and the weather began to edge into the more uncomfortable, sweaty part of the year. They got away with wearing fewer and thinner and less cumbersome layers in their own quarters, where no one except the increasingly friendly maids could see, but at the mandatory dinners with Mother and Father there was nothing to be done except wear the monkey suit and suffer through it.

The room was silent except for the clattering of silverware against plates and the occasional click of a glass being set down. Mother and Father were in uncharacteristically good moods, and hadn’t made even a token effort to goad Patton or Virgil or make pointed comments about Janus’s clothes.

It was fucking stressful. Remus had gotten pretty good at telling when moments like this were the calm before the storm.

“Remus, dear,” said Mother apropos of nothing, and Remus only just managed not to flinch.

“Yes, Mother?”

“Your birthday is in two weeks,” she said, “We were thinking of throwing you a little party. What do you think?”

And _that_ was a trap if Remus had ever fucking seen one, because they hardly actually cared what Remus thought.

But that wasn’t the worst part.

Of course he knew his birthday was coming up – he wasn’t an idiot. What Mother had just failed to mention was that, _obviously_ his wasn’t the only one. So was Roman’s, and due to the tiny chance of them being born around midnight, Roman’s was actually a day earlier, the fourteenth where Remus’s was the fifteenth.

But they hadn’t mentioned Roman’s birthday at all. They hadn’t even looked at him.

In the corner of his eye, Remus could see Roman’s ashen expression, and the helplessly furious look on Virgil’s face right next to him.

“I’m not- sure,” Remus hedged, scrambling to come up with a way out of this and coming up with empty hands.

“We’ll be sending out the invitations tomorrow, so you have plenty of time,” said Mother, because of course she did, “I will send Mr. Stern up with some acceptable options for the menu and the entertainment, and we shall let you pick your favorite.”

This was- absurd. It was so ridiculous it didn’t feel real. A _birthday_ party? Remus’s birthday gifts up until now had been limited to stiffly impersonal clothing at _best_ , and even then everyone knew those were more presents from Libby and Ari than his parents. They just instructed Libby to make “something” and Libby did all the rest.

Remus wondered if he wasn’t hallucinating, or having a very vivid nightmare, and it was only Roman surreptitiously kicking him in the shin that snapped him out of his stupor enough to respond.

“Thank you,” he managed, strangled.

Mother looked incredibly smug and self-satisfied.

“And I have been thinking it may be time to bring you on one of the game hunts,” said Father, “We could do it earlier in the day, before the party, invite some of the noble sons around your age. You could use some appropriate company.”

Remus was glad he’d put down his glass, because he was sure he would have shattered it if he’d still been holding it.

“I think I like the company I’ve got,” he said, before he could think through exactly how _monumentally_ _stupid_ of a thing that was for him to say.

But Father only let out a slightly condescending laugh.

“Come now, Remus, your honeymoon phase can’t last forever. You ought to spend time with people other than Theodora.”

Another automatic retort rose, but Roman stomped firmly on his foot, and Remus swallowed it.

Remus would take his brothers – and Patton and Virgil and _yes_ , Janus – would take any of their company over a whole crowd of nobles clamoring for imaginary social clout any fucking day.

His parents seemed to think the conversation was over, which meant two weeks from now Remus was going to have to sit through some kind of excruciating event where he couldn’t get away with disappearing, as the fucking _guest_ _of_ _honor_.

Joy.

Dinner ended, and when Roman rushed from the room at a speed that was just shy of polite, Virgil close at his heels, Remus immediately followed.

Roman didn’t respond to Virgil’s calls for him to stop, or Remus or Logan who’d also followed them. Roman made it to their wing of the house and entered the first room he came across, the breakfast room.

When Remus followed them in, Roman was already sitting on the sofa, crying silently, Virgil crouched in front of him with a pained expression.

“Ro,” croaked Remus.

“It’s fine,” said Roman thickly, “I don’t even know why I’m crying. I don’t _want_ a sweaty, uncomfortable party surrounded by people I hate, constantly aware of all the mistakes I could make and get punished for. It sounds miserable, and I know you don’t want it either.”

Remus and Logan made their way across the room. Logan sat carefully next to Roman, and Remus sat on Logan’s other side.

“This is so _stupid_ ,” Roman choked.

“It’s _not_ stupid, Roman,” said Virgil, squeezing his hand.

“I just-”

Roman cut off, and Logan reached out to place his hand on Roman’s arm.

“Just what, Roman?” he said gently.

Jaw trembling, Roman’s face crumpled

“Why do they _hate_ _me?_ ” he sobbed.

Logan grabbed at him immediately, pulling Roman into his arms and rocking them hesitantly. Virgil kept squeezing Roman’s hand, and Remus reached across Logan to take the other.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Logan, half-sounding like he was trying to convince himself, “Their opinions mean nothing. We love you, and you are- good and kind and wonderful, and any lack of comprehension on their part of that is a fault in them, not you.”

“They’re our parents,” croaked Roman, “Aren’t they supposed to love us?”

“Also their problem, babe, not yours,” said Virgil quietly, “They don’t deserve you. Any of you.”

Sniffing, Roman wiped his face on Logan’s shoulder, which made Logan laugh fondly and squeeze him.

“Knock, knock.”

Roman hurriedly wiped his face, and in the doorway Patton made a soothing noise.

“It’s just me and Janus, sweetheart,” he said softly, “But we can leave if you want.”

“No, that’s fine,” said Roman, “You can come in I’m just- blubbering.”

“You’re allowed to be upset.” said Patton, frowning, “It was very cruel of them, to pick favorites so obviously.”

Remus shrank back a little.

“Oh, don’t _you_ go feeling bad about this, mister,” said Patton, waggling his finger at Remus, “This is _not_ your fault, and you’re clearly just as miserable so I’m not gonna have you beating yourself up about it.”

“Okay, okay,” said Remus, raising his hands in surrender.

Patton gave him a playful “I’m watching you” gesture that broke some of the tension in the room.

“I do have an idea though,” said Patton.

“And what is that dear?” said Logan, carefully running his fingers through Roman’s hair.

“I think we _should_ have a little birthday celebration for you two.” he said, “Something real, and not stuffy and terrible.”

“Yeah?” said Roman, wiping his face.

“Maybe I can take you out to my parents, or we can walk around, go some places, maybe dancing!” said Patton, “And I know we’ve all been itching to get out of this place anyway.”

Roman looked at Remus around Logan’s shoulder questioningly.

“Sounds good to me,” said Remus, shrugging.

“… Yeah,” said Roman, “Me too. Sounds- really great Patton.”

Beaming, Patton came over and sat right on the coffee table while Janus took the share, and together, the six of them made a plan.

—

They’d argued for a little bit about whether they ought to do the _real_ birthdays before or after the parents-enforced shit show, and they’d eventually decided on doing it a couple days before. Apparently Patton’s favorite restaurant had drink specials that day, which Remus thought was kind of a silly reason seeing as they could easily afford full-price drinks.

The night of, Remus got ready in his own room, dressed in his favorite clothes – black and neon-green, arms bare and holes in his jeans. He felt like he could actually _breathe_ in clothes like this.

Coming out of the room, Remus was surprised to find it empty – Janus was normally much faster at getting ready than him.

He hesitated for a moment, before crossing the room and knocking on Janus’s door.

“Janus?” he called.

“What is it?” came the slightly hysterical response.

“You good in there?”

“Fine!”

Which was pretty blatantly a lie, and Remus was starting to get kind of worried.

“Janus, are you dressed?” he said, “Can I come in?”

“Oh, fine, whatever then, come in.”

Remus pushed open the door.

Janus was standing in the middle of the room, arms wrapped over his chest and around his own shoulders, which were almost completely exposed under the black and gold tank top he was wearing. Remus could also see part of his binder, another set of tighter straps underneath and the top peeking out over the neckline.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” said Janus, strangled.

“Sure you can,” said Remus, “No one’s gonna be looking at you, I promise. You’re still wearing long pants even, I guarantee at least half the peasants are gonna be less dressed than you.”

“What if someone recognizes me?”

“Oh, not gonna happen,” said Remus, “Has literally never happened. You look completely different, Jan.”

And he did. He hadn’t lost the hat, but everything else was totally unrecognizable from the Janus of every day, from the long expanses of exposed skin on his arms and chest and shoulders to the yellow pinstripes on his black slacks, his hands bare of gloves and his feet in sneakers Patton had recommended for dancing.

“You look nice,” said Remus, before he could overthink it.

“I feel ridiculous.”

“But you _look_ nice, which means you can totally just fake being confident and nobody can tell the difference,” said Remus, “Trust me, I am an expert on fake it til you make it, it’s how I got past every single tutor they ever threw at me.”

Janus laughed a little.

“… You’re sure?”

“Really sure,” said Remus, “You look great.”

Smiling nervously, Janus let his arms drop to his sides. He still looked a little uncomfortable, but he didn’t look like he was gonna hide under the bed.

“Well- as long as you’re here, I suppose-”

He actually _did_ crawl under the bed then, and Remus raised his eyebrows curiously.

He pulled out a large, flat board, which was revealed to be a clipboard which he undid, and pulled a sheet of white paper off of it carefully and brought it over.

“This is your birthday present,” he said plainly, “I would have given it to you while we were out, but I didn’t want it to get crumpled.”

Remus took the paper gingerly, staring down at it.

He had no idea how Janus had done it – they certainly hadn’t posed for him, or Remus would have already known about it, but there on the paper were him and his brothers, in the cleanest drawing Remus had seen of Janus’s work yet, draped over each other and the couch in receiving room.

“Did you draw this from _memory?_ ” said Remus, strangled.

“Only a little,” said Janus, “I drew a smaller, rougher sketch in the room when nobody was paying attention, and then made a bigger, cleaner one later. Do you like it?”

“This is- this is great.” said Remus, still half-choking, “I love it. _Thank_ _you_.”

Janus flushed a slightly embarrassed pink, smiling.

“Good,” he said.

Remus felt a slight sting of embarrassment that he’d deliberately not given Janus anything back at his birthday, but then that reminded him of Candy, and the fact that she didn’t seem to think the date Remus knew was Janus’s birthday at all.

“Can I ask you something?” he blurted.

Janus looked slightly startled.

“Well, you just did,” he deadpanned, “But go ahead.”

“Why does Candy think your birthday is the first of May?”

Tensing, Janus took a half step backward, before taking a deep breath and visibly relaxing.

“Ah,” he said, “I wondered when you were going to ask, after the, uh, ‘Dipping Dots’ incident.”

Remus waited, and Janus sighed.

“I suppose my birthday is in February,” he said, “In the sense that it is the day I was born. The first of May is-”

He cleared his throat.

“The first of May is the day I chose my name. Janus. So- I don’t know. It’s a kind of second birthday. The more important one, in my opinion, who wants to celebrate the anniversary of being squeezed out of their mother while everyone is screaming and there’s blood everywhere?”

“I dunno, sounds festive to me,”

“Oh, of course it does, you and your fondness for gore would find childbirth amusing wouldn’t you?” said Janus dryly.

“A regular party,” laughed Remus, “But- I think that’s kinda cool actually. Extra birthday.”

“You don’t think it’s- well, childish?”

“Nah,” said Remus, “I’d totally hoard birthdays if I had a reason.”

Janus’s face split into a grin, and Remus leaned forward and socked him gently on the arm. Janus punched him back, a little harder, and Remus immediately collapsed just for the drama of it.

“ _Oh_ my- _Remus!_ Get up you horrible creature, I was _worried_ you asshole-”

Cackling on the floor, Remus rolled over onto his stomach when Janus kicked him lightly in the side, before clamoring to his feet.

“Well,” he said, brushing himself off, “Party time I guess. You good to go?”

Janus ran a hand over his shoulder.

“… Yes,” he said finally, “I suppose I am.”

Grinning, Remus led him out of their rooms.

—

They took Patton’s car out – which prompted a very funny conversation with Janus, who apparently had not known about the car, seeing as Mother wouldn’t let Patton park it near the house and they didn’t have a garage, so Patton had to park it down past the gate on the street.

Remus was quickly starting to wish they’d gotten Janus out of the house sooner, because he was – there was simply no other word for it – kind of precious.

They met Patton’s siblings and their partners at the restaurant, and crammed themselves into two large tables stuck together, and Janus was sitting between Remus and Patton and looking around the patio with an almost awed expression.

“Having fun?” said Remus.

“This restaurant has _neon_ _lights_ ,” said Janus, which Remus didn’t think was an answer but he was too amused to push it, “If my mother knew I was at a restaurant with _neon_ _lights_ she might actually keel over and have a heart attack. I’m _fantastic_.”

“I can’t tell if you want me to tell your mom or not,”

“I’ll let you know when I decide,” laughed Janus.

Janus had no idea what any of the items on the menu were, so Patton leaned over his shoulder and helped him. Remus occasionally chimed in with suggestions for insanely spicy wings or other slightly dangerous foods and Patton sighed at him, exasperated, steering Janus away from Remus’s picks.

Janus eventually decided on chicken fingers because he’d found the name funny, and they all chatted as they waited for the food to arrive.

They introduced Janus to Patton’s brother, Thomas, and his soulmate October, and Patton’s sister Missy and _her_ soulmate Priscilla, who were all just as nauseatingly in love as their brother.

They’d somehow gotten on the topic of Missy and Priscilla’s upcoming wedding, which might have bothered Remus, except the topic quickly became how utterly foreign and different peasant weddings were to the ones Remus knew about.

“You’ve been dating for _three years?_ ” said Roman, astonished, “And you’re only just now getting married?”

“Yep!” said Missy, “Not everyone has to get a shotgun wedding to be with their soulmate like PJ.”

“Missy,” said Patton admonishingly.

“Sorry,” she said, wincing, “That came out meaner than I meant it.”

“I don’t know if I could have _handled_ dating Virgil for three years without marrying him,” said Roman incredulously.

“ _Babe_ ,” said Virgil, flustered.

“I will admit,” said Logan, “That while I would have been happy to marry Patton in whatever way was available to us, I found Virgil and Roman’s ceremony in the little, um- what was it called?”

“Soul chapel.”

“Yes, that – to be much less… stuffy.”

“You could totally do a vow renewal for your anniversary!” said Thomas, “Oh, wouldn’t that be sweet?”

“Whatever you say, babe,” said October, kissing his temple.

“We got to hold hands, for one,” said Roman, “Instead of just standing stiffly next to each other. And the vows are nicer I think. Less formal.”

“And there’s proper dancing afterwards,” said Patton, “And they’re usually in the afternoon or evening instead of the morning, so you can put up pretty colored lights. Would you like that sweetie? If we had a renewal, I mean.”

“I am fond of anything that allows me to publicly talk about how much I love you,” said Logan.

Remus pretended to gag, expecting Janus to laugh, but when he actually looked at Janus he had a flat, pensive frown on his face.

“Janus?” he said quietly.

Startling, Janus looked up at him with a slightly hurt expression, which Remus wasn’t expecting, and then he abruptly got up from the table.

“Janus?” Remus repeated.

“Excuse me for a moment-” said Janus, smiling that perfectly fake smile from the Darceys’ ball and turning to go.

Someone stumbled into him, a stranger, catching herself on Janus’s shoulders. Janus got a slightly deer-in-headlights expression, trying to push her off.

“Oh my _goodness!_ ” exclaimed the girl, who was clearly drunk. She reached up and touched Janus’s face, brushing his hair out of the way, and Janus’s expression when from startled to downright panicked.

“Hey, get _off_ of him!” shouted Remus, trying to stand but pinned in by her weight against his chair and knowing that shoving her to the floor probably wasn’t gonna fly.

“Oh, I’ve never seen someone with a soulmark on their face!” exclaimed the girl, “That’s so _-hic-_ romantic, you gotta tell me your story, Mister.”

“Let go of me,” said Janus, voice trembling.

“And it’s such a neat color, almost silvery-” she continued, brushing her fingertips against it.

“I said _let go of me!”_ Janus shouted, startling her into releasing him, and as the room fell quiet and a sea of heads turned to look at him he bolted toward the gate.

“Jan, wait- Janus!”

The drunk girl finally moved and Remus scrambled out from the table.

Weaving between the tables, Remus almost flipped right over the gate as it shut and clicked behind Janus and Remus ran straight into it, but he managed to get it open and follow Janus’s sprinting form down the block and then into the _alley,_ fucking c’mon Jan, was he _trying_ to get robbed-

The alley ended in a dead-end, where Remus found Janus hidden between the brick wall and a dumpster, half in shadow and breathing too shallow to be good.

“Go _away!_ ” he snapped.

Remus winced.

“Okay, so- I totally would do that, except this is a dark alley in the middle of the city, and you could get gruesomely murdered or otherwise fucked up if I just ditch you back here, so I am, uh… not going to do that.”

“I don’t need _protection,_ ” Janus hissed.

“And I don’t need to be a widower at the ripe old age of twenty-two,” said Remus, hoping the terrible joke might raise Janus’s spirits.

Bad plan – Janus scowled darkly at him, and Remus raised his hands in surrender.

“Okay, so – not leaving,” said Remus. “And it looks like you’re not coming out, so-”

Remus lowered himself to the concrete, sitting cross-legged and facing Janus.

“I won’t bug you,” said Remus, “We can just… sit.”

Scowling even deeper, Janus buried his face in his knees and ignored him.

They sat silently for a few minutes, and Remus wondered if any of the others were going to come after them. Maybe they thought Remus had it handled, which was a dumb take on their part, or maybe they wouldn’t be able to find them.

“I lied to you,” said Janus abruptly.

Remus jerked, looking up at Janus.

He’d sat his chins on his hands, looking calmer and solemn.

“Or more… misled you, I suppose,” he continued.

“Uh- should I be worried?”

Janus chewed on his lip a little.

“When I told you about aromanticism,” he said, “I implied I knew about it because I was trans.”

Furrowing his brow, Remus thought back on the conversation, and thought he did remember an inkling of Janus saying something like that.

“Is that… not why?”

“No, it isn’t,” said Janus, “I know about it because I’m demisexual.”

“… Which is-?”

Janus fiddled with the hem of his pants.

“In the same way you do not experience romantic attraction, I do not experience sexual attraction, most of the time.”

“Only most?” said Remus.

Wavering, Janus looked between the ground and Remus a few times.

“You weren’t the first person who touched my soulmark,”

Janus seemed to be having trouble getting whatever it was he was trying to say out – he was bouncing all over the place, and Remus had no idea where he was going, so he just gestured for Janus to continue.

“There was a boy,” Janus continued, “A stablehand - the one who took my cat home. His name was Jack, and his soulmark was black, and almost the same spot as yours. There was some on his thumb, as well. That’s the only difference.”

… Remus was maybe starting to get an idea where Janus was going.

“I pestered him after he took her home, constantly following him around and asking him about her, and then about his day, to be polite, and then not just to be polite and…”

He made a shaking fist in the leg of his pants.

“I was so sure,” he said, “I had never felt that way about anyone, that’s- that’s what demisexuality is. I only feel the attraction _after_ I’ve- bonded, gotten attached, fallen in love, whatever. And I was so _sure_ , that if I’d never felt it for anyone but one person, that person must be my soulmate, right?”

He laughed bitterly.

“I convinced him to try – and of course nothing at all happened.”

Remus’s stomach was rolling and rolling, and he considered telling Janus that he kind of _really_ wanted him to stop talking. But he couldn’t seem to get his mouth to cooperate, and what came out was something else entirely.

“What happened?” he asked, regretting it immediately, because if it turned out Janus had a boyfriend waiting and pining for him back at the Bullards’ while Janus was trapped _here_ in a sham marriage to Remus, Remus thought he might actually start sympathy-crying which hadn’t happened since he and Roman were children.

A slightly more genuine smile touched Janus’s face.

“He kissed me and said he didn’t care,” said Janus, “Which was a terrible choice, because someone saw us, and the next thing I knew he was gone. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

He finally looked away, and Remus felt the break in eye contact like both a relief and a faint stabbing sensation in his chest.

“So, that’s why,” said Janus, “I didn’t want you to think it had anything to do with you, me- not liking the mark. It’s just… a bad memory.”

Remus almost wanted to laugh – how, exactly, had Janus come to the conclusion that this somehow _didn’t_ have anything to do with Remus? Like Remus’s impulsive, asshole move hadn’t put the mark on Janus’s face in the first place. Like Remus touching it hadn’t well and truly trapped Janus here, with Remus, away from this Jack character and clearly still pining for him.

“I’m sorry,” he said weakly, “I wish it had been him. You deserve for it to have been him and not me.”

Janus shook his head.

“You’re not my sentence, Remus; you’re my friend,” said Janus, “And honestly- maybe that’s better. I thought maybe I could force it, at the start, before I knew you were aromantic. That I could make myself love you, and you love me.”

He shrugged.

“But that’s not how it works.” he said plainly, “Maybe for everyone else, with symmetrical marks, but- not us. And I think that’s fine.”

“… Really?” said Remus hesitantly, “You’re not…?”

He trailed off.

“Not what?” Janus prompted quietly after a moment.

“Not- mad at me, I guess,” said Remus, “For it being broken. Or for… not being Jack.”

Janus’s face fell into a sympathetic, pained expression.

“No,” he said softly, “No, Remus, I’m not mad at you. And it’s not broken, it’s just… not there. And that’s just as much my doing as yours.”

It was kind of hard to believe that, when Janus’s face was stubbornly grayed out and Remus’s fingers still shimmered gold, but… Janus seemed to believe it.

Maybe Remus could believe it too.

“Our food is probably getting cold,” said Janus abruptly.

“… Do you want to go back?”

Janus paused.

“Not particularly,” he said, “But I will.”

He stood carefully from concrete, and Remus followed. They dusted themselves off and made their way toward the mouth of the alley.

Janus paused just before the open air of the street, turning.

“I’m glad,” he said, “To be able to know you. Even if we aren’t really soulmates.”

Remus’s heart gave a warm little pulse, and before he could overthink it he reached out and squeezed Janus’s hand, quickly and just once, before dropping it again.

“Me, too.”

—

“I fucking hate this,”

“Understandable,” said Logan, standing next to Remus with a calm, unconcerned expression.

“I _really_ fucking hate this,” Remus repeated. “The game hunting was bad enough - the dogs did all the work and the deer are practically tame, and I was surrounded by _idiots_ the whole time and now I’m tired from hiking all afternoon on top of all _this_ nonsense.“

Logan wrinkled his nose, patting Remus on the arm.

"Yes, hunting is… an acquired taste.”

“How long did it take you to acquire it?”

“I will let you know if I ever do.”

“You know, it’s very rude of you to hide and not invite anyone else,” said Roman, peeking his head around the tapestry into the little hidden hallway the servants used to move between the ballroom and the reception room.

“Remus required a temporary respite, and I corralled him into doing so.”

“Did not,” muttered Remus.

Logan raised a brow as Roman came into the hallway, Janus, Patton, and a clearly nauseated-with-discomfort Virgil.

“I am certain you were about to tip an hor d'oeuvre plate onto Lady Ainsworth for referring to Patton as a gutter-spawn,” said Logan flatly, “It was for the sake of everyone’s sanity.”

“Food fight would make this snooze fest a lot more interesting.”

“Yes, because we all want Mother and Father to behead us, clearly,” said Roman airily.

“I can handle a bit of snark honey, it’s not a big deal,” said Patton.

Logan’s mouth twisted.

“Make no mistake, I do agree with Remus that people ought to be orders of magnitude less rude to you. I merely think there are better ways to encourage it than food-based violence,”

“Like what?” said Virgil dryly.

“Reporting them to the crown for tax evasion, for one,” said Logan, “Which almost always works, because almost every noble is doing it.”

Virgil perked up like a hound on the scent.

“Oh, do share.”

“I suppose I could also try my hand at framing them for treason,” said Logan idly, swirling his champagne in his glass, “As long as I am invited to their homes it theoretically wouldn’t be difficult to do so-”

“Okay, I think you’ve had enough,” said Patton sunnily, “Virgil, no,”

“You never let me plot with Logan,” said Virgil, a little petulant.

“Not true,” said Patton, “I just don’t let you plot very super illegal things that will get two of my most favorite people thrown into the queen’s personal prison for the rest of their lives if they get caught.”

“He does have a point,” said Roman, “I like you not in prison,”

Huffing, Virgil leaned in to kiss Roman on the forehead.

“If there does wind up being plotting about overthrowing the royal families I will be terribly disappointed if you don’t invite me.”

“Janus,” said Patton, exasperated, “Not you too,”

“What?” said Janus, “Her Most Pompous Majesty Queen Katherine cares more about micromanaging all the nobles about fealty taxes than she does about the average citizen.”

“You’ve met Queen Katherine?” said Roman incredulously.

“I’d hardly call it meeting, but I’ve been in her presence,” said Janus, “Unfortunately girls get presented to her at court when they enter society and apparently no one got the memo that I am very much not a girl and therefore should not have been invited.”

“Sounds like a nightmare,” said Virgil.

“You have no idea,” said Janus dryly.

They stayed behind the curtain for several minutes, before Logan sighed and readjusted his cravat.

“Well,” he said, “I suppose we have to return at some point.”

“Do we _have to?_ ” whined Roman.

“Unfortunately, yes,” said Logan, patting him soothingly, “Come on, we’ll have greater strength in numbers.”

Logan and Roman moved toward the tapestry, Patton and Virgil following, and Logan looked over his shoulder at Remus and Janus.

“Are you coming?”

Remus winced.

“Just like… five more minutes,” he mumbled awkwardly.

Logan gave him a sympathetic look.

“Very well,” he said quietly, “We will most likely be by the wine table.”

Roman waved at the two of them, and then they all filed out.

“You do have to return eventually,” said Janus sadly.

“Yeah, yeah,” grumbled Remus, scowling, “This sucks,“

"Agreed,” said Janus, “And is somehow even more infuriating than the last one, seeing as everyone seems to think I am the one throwing this for you and asking me all manner of inane questions about the schedule as if I remotely care,”

“They think _you’re_ in charge?” said Remus incredulously.

“Yes,” said Janus, lip curling in distaste, “Somehow they’ve gotten the impression this is _my_ birthday present to you, rather than your parents’. As if I would ever get you something that made you clearly, actively miserable.”

“Your actual present was certainly better than this.”

That made Janus flash him a small but genuine smile.

Remus was itching slightly with boredom so pervasive it was practically physically painful.

“Hey,” he said suddenly.

Janus raised a brow.

“Yes?”

“Do you want to do something like- really, really stupid?”

Janus stared at him for a moment.

“… You know what?” he said after a moment, “Sure. Why not? Better than this nightmare, surely. What did you have in mind?”

Remus grinned.

“You know how Stern was super nasty to you when you first got here?”

“I do recall,”

“Well, I think we should rob the wine cellar,” said Remus, “He’ll get an absolute shitstorm from my parents when they find out.”

“Hmm,” said Janus, “I think it’s technically burglary, not robbery, if we are breaking into a place we aren’t supposed to be,”

“… Is that a yes?”

“It’s a yes and a lead the way,” said Janus, setting his glass carelessly in the dirt of the potted plant they were standing beside, “I’m afraid I haven’t the faintest idea where the wine cellar is.”

They managed to sneak out a side door into the late-afternoon light of the yard. The door to the wine cellar was on the outside, and they stayed close to the porch so no one could see them through the huge windows of the ballroom.

Remus cursed as they arrived to find the door locked.

“Ah shit,” he muttered, “It’s a crapshoot if he leaves it locked or not but I should have guessed – we’ll have to double back and break into his rooms, they’re on the third floor-”

“Unnecessary,” said Janus, fishing around in his pocket and retrieving something small before pulling his gloves off with his teeth.

“Uh, what are you doing?”

“Just because my hair isn’t long anymore doesn’t mean I stopped carrying around bobby pins,” said Janus, reaching for the lock, “They’re entirely too useful.”

And then, right in front of Remus’s eyes, Janus jammed two bobby pins in the padlock, wiggled them around for about a minute, and the lock gave way with a deceptively quiet little _click_.

“Where the fuck did you learn to do _that_?” exclaimed Remus.

“I figured out that as long as frivolous novels were the top couple of items on my book-buying receipts my parents didn’t pay attention to what sort of books were on the bottom.”

Janus pushed open the door, and Remus followed him in.

The wine cellar was huge, and the few times Remus had managed to sneak into it had been merely to steal enough to get himself and sometimes Roman drunk with as little notice as possible – which usually meant stealing the same wine that got served to the three of them at dinner anyway, because Mother and Father were hardly going to spring for the fancy stuff for the dinners their sons _didn’t_ have with them.

But if they were trying to screw over Cedric, they’d have to pick something much more expensive and noticeable if it went missing, which Remus had… absolutely no idea how to determine.

“Do you know anything about wine?” Remus muttered, grabbing a bottle at random and examining it.

“Some,” said Janus, also looking through a shelf on the other side of the cellar, “Mother was incredibly insistent that I learn to host parties, and wine selection was a detail present.”

“Okay so- we just grab the fanciest bottle we can find and book it?”

“You know Remus, I feel like I’m doing quite a lot of the work considering this was your idea,” said Janus, clearly amused.

“Ha, ha,” snarked Remus.

“This is a merlot,” said Janus idly, pulling it off the shelf and bringing it over, “From the Langley vineyards out in Tellhold. Not particularly well-made or quality, but of course very expensive because it comes from a noble’s property.”

“Expensive enough to get Cedric in shit?”

“Should be,” said Janus, examining it as he stood next to Remus, “Though I don’t know how often anybody would coming looking for it, as I said it’s not particularly drinkable-”

Back at the front of the cellar, the door creaked open and banged quietly against the wall.

“Shit,” whispered Janus.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Remus agreed, “Uuuuuh-”

“What do we do!?” hissed Janus.

“How should I know?” Remus whispered back.

“It was _your idea_ -”

Whoever was coming was just barely visible moving between the wine racks, coming closer, and Remus scrambled for an excuse for him and his fake husband being down here that _didn’t_ involved theft and framing the butler-

A match struck, and Remus grabbed the bottle from Janus.

“I’m not actually gonna do anything so just hold still and don’t punch me,” hissed Remus, wrapping his arm around Janus’s waist to hide the bottle behind his back.

Janus looked incredibly alarmed.

“Not actually going to do _what?_ ”

Instead of answering, Remus fitted his hand over the side of Janus’s face so he was covering his mouth, angling them so Remus’s back was to whoever was approaching, and put their faces right next to each other.

Janus went rigid as statuary under Remus’s hands, their breath hot and oppressively uncomfortable in the too-small space between them, and Remus waited, listening.

“Oh my goodness-!”

Remus pretended to be startled, moving his face immediately away from Janus’s and feigning embarrassment at having been caught.

“Oh, uh- hey, we were just-”

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Fitzroy!” said the servant, going so far as to cover his rapidly reddening face, “I just- I’m- I’m gonna, go-”

He scrambled backwards, and as soon as he was out of sight Remus relaxed.

He let go of Janus fully, pulling out the bottle victoriously.

“Success,” he said cheerfully.

Janus didn’t respond – and when Remus really looked at him he was still frozen still.

“Uh, Jan-?” he said, reaching out his hand to poke.

And Janus _flinched._

Remus realized, with a sort of slow-creeping horror, that he may have just massively, irrevocably fucked up.

“I’m sorry,” he said immediately, “I- fuck, Jan, I didn’t even think, I was just trying to think of an excuse for us to be down here-”

“It’s fine,” said Janus woodenly, even though it was so clearly obviously not fine because Janus was leaning away from Remus and his eyes were darting wildly around the rood like he was trying to _escape-_

“I’m sorry,” Remus repeated.

“I said it’s fine,” said Janus, smiling, sweet and fake, “It was a good plan. He didn’t even notice, and we have the wine. Everything is fine.”

The last sentence came out like he was trying to convince _himself_ , and Remus felt like he was going to be sick.

“Well!” said Janus brightly after a moment of strained, painful silence, “I think we’re all finished up here, what do you say we return to the party?”

Remus stepped toward him and Janus stepped back in mirror, keeping careful space between them. Swallowing thickly, Remus stepped back, his stomach shriveling with misery when Janus seemed to relax.

“Yeah,” croaked Remus, “Right. The party.”

Still smiling sweetly, Janus turned away and hurried back toward the entrance – by the time Remus reached it himself and came out into the open air, Janus was already more than a dozen paces ahead, rushing back to the party.

The miserable, mind-meltingly boring party that he’d been complaining about all evening, that apparently now still outranked Remus’s company.

Great. Just _great._

Remus managed to catch up with him, trying to make as much noise as possible so as not to sneak up on him, before holding up the stolen bottle.

“Where are we gonna stash this?” he asked, stoically ignoring the feeling that he might be about to cry.

“Oh!” said Janus, “Um-”

His eyes darted around.

“Give it to me,” said Janus, “I’ll just take it back to- our rooms.”

Silently, Remus offered the bottle by the neck, and Janus took it, careful not to even brush him.

They separated, and Janus went to hide their ill-gotten alcohol and Remus went back to the vacuous, boring party to wait for him to return.

And wait.

And _wait._

And hours later, as the guests began to wander off to their rooms, Remus realized Janus wasn’t coming back.

 _Well_ , thought Remus mournfully, _that was nice while it lasted._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> angst, parental abuse/neglect, non-consensual touching, anxiety attacks

**Author's Note:**

> you can also find me on tumblr @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors!


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